


looks, proximity, power

by diphylleia



Series: proximity 'verse [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Angst, Bottom Park Chanyeol, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Rimming, Top Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 73,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9564614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diphylleia/pseuds/diphylleia
Summary: Sehun and Baekhyun have a problem; his name is Kim Minseok. Their solution? Park Chanyeol.[in which Sehun and Baekhyun convince Chanyeol to be their last-resort sugar baby to the country's most successful lawyer.]





	1. Chapter 1

In hindsight, Chanyeol really should have expected Sehun’s ulterior motive the moment he’d paid for another round of shots – Sehun was tight-fisted, a modern age scrooge where money was considered. The last time he’d paid for anything, it came right before a ‘ _haha so I kinda need to live with you until further notice thanks I love you too_ ’ and Chanyeol hadn’t bothered to ask. The younger annoyance also refused to pay rent until they moved to a nicer apartment.

“So,” Sehun started, the irritating spark in his eyes, “I found out some rather interesting news through a mutual contact.”

Chanyeol stared at him across the table, “If your contact is Baekhyun-”

“Hear me out,” Sehun interrupted, sliding one of the shots across to Chanyeol as a peace offering.

The bass from the nearby speaker thudded through Chanyeol’s chest as he sighed in resignation, “I thought we agreed you’d stop trying to drag me into this.”

“We can agree that I lied,” His best friend continued, toying with his own glass, “You’re broke and listen, it hurts to see you eating cheap-ass cereal with a cheap-ass spoon when we both know you could be eating cheap-ass cereal with a golden spoon.”

“I like my cheap-ass cereal, Sehun.”

“A little birdy told me you were looking to buy a studio-”

“I told you that,” Chanyeol interrupted, “Literally last night.”

“ _And_ I have a solution,” Sehun resumed, “All I’m asking is that you consider it – the moment something happens you don’t like, I’ll drop it.”

Chanyeol sighed at the innocent face his best friend was attempting to pull across the table, “You’re serious about this.”

“I want to live in a better apartment and we both know you can’t afford to go half with me on something with more class.”

He snorted, “Class? You don’t even pay rent right now.”

Sehun didn’t bother to retaliate, “Junmyeon has a friend. A lawyer friend.”

“Your lawyer boyfriend has a lawyer friend,” Chanyeol repeated, “Consider me shocked.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Sehun scowled as Chanyeol rolled his eyes, “And believe me when I say that you’re my last resort. ‘Myeon asked me to mention it.”

Chanyeol threw back his shot, motioning with his other hand for Sehun to continue. He liked Junmyeon – Junmyeon brought food when he visited and chastised Sehun for being a brat (and there was also the main fact that Junmyeon made his best friend _very_ happy). Sehun was in denial about his _feelings_ for his sugar daddy and Chanyeol would rather not instigate something in that mess.

“Nobody is working out for this guy. It’s making us look bad,” Sehun sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “We even tried Baek.”

“How did you conclude that I was your answer?” Chanyeol asked, his laugh slightly incredulous, “If your fussy sugar daddy turned down _Byun Baekhyun_ , why are you even asking me?”

“Hold up, he never said ‘turned down’,” Byun Baekhyun corrected, sliding into the seat next to Sehun, “We got off, it was great – I didn’t even charge him.”

Chanyeol threw back another shot. He should’ve found new friends when he’d had the chance.

“We agreed I was talking to him,” Sehun scowled in greeting.

“I’m necessary,” Baekhyun answered, taking the remaining shot without asking, “You’re getting nowhere with our timid little Chanyeol.”

Sehun snorted, “Our?”

“Timid?” Chanyeol glared.

“Mr Kim is willing to pay more than anyone I’ve ever met,” Baekhyun continued, ignoring them both, “Which would make you the most expensive sugar _baby_ I know. Zitao’s gonna be pissed.”

“I still don’t see where I fit into this.”

“We know you’re not inexperienced,” Baekhyun started, a grin forming on his lips.

“We also know you like to complain every time you get drunk that there’s something obviously dissatisfying each time you get laid,” Sehun finished.

The two shared a look as Chanyeol sunk back into his seat.

“You’re tall,” Sehun stated after a moment.

“Good observation.”

“Taller than him,” Baekhyun added.

“Why is that important?”

“And, y’know, the biggest fucking _sub_ -,” Baekhyun said bluntly, wincing when Sehun kicked him beneath the table.

Chanyeol attempted nonchalance, looking between his friends’ heads instead of at them, “And how would you know that?”

After a beat of silence, Sehun said, “Your porn folder is saved to our shared online account.”

And really, he should’ve seen that coming.

“Oh,” Chanyeol croaked. The blush crawling up his neck turned his ears pink and the word _dumbass_ flashed behind his eyelids when he blinked. Of course Sehun would snake his way into Chanyeol’s shit.

“It’s your decision,” Sehun replied, tone slightly softer than before, “Just think about it.”

Sehun reached into Baekhyun’s pocket and pulled out an expensive looking business card. Of course he had a business card.

Chanyeol stared at the black card a moment before taking it, reading the squared white font on the centre of one side, “Mr Kim. Ambiguous.”

“Think about it this way,” Baekhyun began, resting his elbows on the table and a shameless smirk on his face, “You get fucked the right way _and_ make money doing it. Mr Kim gets de-stressed and a pretty little brunette to call his baby. Me and Sehun keep our platinum status. It’s a win-win.”

“And if he doesn’t like me?” Chanyeol asked, flipping the card over to glance at the numbers. His face felt hot.

“Then it ends there, no problem,” Sehun answered easily.

He fidgeted with the card, “So… What? Am I supposed to text him? Isn’t that a little…informal?”

“People text, Chanyeol, that’s a thing that people do.”

Chanyeol slid the card into his pocket, filing it away as a problem for sober him. He was well aware of his friends’ chosen lifestyle and though he’d be reluctant to admit it out loud, they weren’t wrong – not to be cliché but sex and money were two things Chanyeol could get behind. Or beneath. It had been a while since he’d found himself satisfied after getting laid.

Sometime during the night when Drunk Chanyeol deemed it appropriate to lack inhibition, he typed out the numbers in white font and text a single ‘ _hello_ ’.

  


* * *

  


Rolling over, Chanyeol buried his head beneath his pillow and tried to put off thinking for a few moments longer. Considering how much they’d drank the night before, Chanyeol wasn’t feeling all that bad – minus his dry tongue and the overall grogginess that seeped into his mind. It could be worse; he could be throwing up, like he’d heard Baekhyun do at some ungodly hour in the morning. He reaped what he sowed, and what he sowed was betting Jongin he’d drink him under the table.

Chanyeol enjoyed the mornings he wasn’t forced to drag himself out of bed – the mornings where he could lay and allow his mind to linger in limbo and think about nothing more than how good it felt to be beneath his 300 blankets.

The vibrating of his phone brought his short no-thinking session to an end and he rolled over, running his hand along the floor until he found the offending object. Even after turning the brightness to its lowest, Chanyeol had to squint at his screen to make out the words.

_[unknown number]  
‘And who might this be, hm?’ _

Frowning, Chanyeol swiped to open the text from the unfamiliar number and upon reading his own _‘hello’_ , allowed his head to drop, limp, back onto the bed. So yeah, he’d done that. It wasn’t like he had anything to lose and he’d never been directly against the idea. He stared at his phone screen for a few moments longer before typing out the words that came first to his mind and tapping send.

_‘i was under the impression you were expecting me’_

With reluctance weighing him down, Chanyeol dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. His mind was only half aware as he cleaned himself, stray thoughts panning out his empty day. He wasn’t struggling for money – money was tight, sure, he couldn’t afford the same luxuries as Sehun and their apartment was falling apart; but it wasn’t like he depended on those luxuries. His day job as sound management at a theatre in the city was enough to sustain him when paired with the odd shifts he covered for Jongin at the club.

So maybe he was three weeks behind on rent and Sehun refused to contribute to said rent until they moved apartments.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair for the last time as he shut off the water and began to towel himself dry. The extra money would be good – he could move apartments, maybe even consider looking for cheap studios to spend his time doing work he actually wanted to do. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d thought about it, especially when he was already accustomed to the normality of it having been around Sehun and Baekhyun long enough.

Pulling on one of his lazy day sweaters, he flopped down onto his bed and unlocked his phone.

_[unknown number]  
‘Ah, Park Chanyeol.’ _

Chanyeol stared at the reply until another message caused the phone to vibrate in his hand.

_‘Let’s get dinner.’_

So soon? It hardly sounded like a question. Chanyeol’s heart rate had already tripled and the man hadn’t even introduced himself. He’d expected the lawyer to be less… abrupt somehow. What was he supposed to reply? _‘Sure’_? _‘Sounds good’_? What if he came across as too casual? Sehun had mentioned the man was fussy (or, to quote his best friend: _picky as fuck_ ), what if Chanyeol put him off before they’d even had a chance to meet? He swallowed his thoughts as he typed. And deleted his sentence. And typed again. Baekhyun had told him that be himself, that he was fitting enough – whatever that meant.

_‘depends. are you taking me somewhere nice?’_

After hitting send, he threw his phone onto his bed and went to grab breakfast. Lunch. A late lunch.

His day was free, meaning he and Sehun wasted their time recovering from the night before and complaining about leg space when Baekhyun lay across them to play whatever video game he’d left at theirs the last time they’d gotten together. Each time his phone buzzed, Sehun lifted an eyebrow but commented no more as Chanyeol and Mr Kim exchanged minor details – the nearest time they were both free, if Chanyeol knew where a particular restaurant was or if he needed Mr Kim to send him a car, which led onto exchanging addresses… and Chanyeol’s account number.

“The dinner is probably so he can decide whether or not you’re the person he’s looking for,” Baekhyun said later that night as he pulled on his shoes to leave, “Don’t sweat it – I have a good feeling about you. Name one time I was wrong.”

“How much did you bet Jongin?” Sehun snorted, giving Baekhyun a shove towards the door, “You were wrong in thinking you could seduce Mr Kim.”

“You should’ve seen him, Sehun, he was way stronger than I anticipated, but, cute,” He then paused, “A ripped bunny.”

“Goodnight, Baekhyun,” Sehun finalised and shut the door, wandering back to drop onto the sofa with Chanyeol, “When’s the date?”

“Tuesday,” Chanyeol yawned in reply, “Why?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you dress yourself,” Sehun informed, eyelids shutting, “Gotta send you all nice and pretty in pants so tight ‘dinner’ will be the last thing on Mr Kim’s mind.”

“I’m starting to think you care more about your ‘business’ reputation than my lack of experience in this.”

“Well, yeah,” Sehun replied, “Did he mention anything about after dinner?”

“Told me to keep my schedule empty,” He answered, “Just in case, I guess.”

Sehun hummed, “We’ll see.”

  


* * *

  


Chanyeol allowed himself to breathe in the late city air; it wasn’t cold, but the last of the summer heat had started to dwindle and it left a chill in the air. They’d agreed on a later dinner and so Chanyeol found himself stood outside a rather upper-class restaurant in an area of the city he ventured into rarely. Chanyeol wasn’t a stranger to fancy foods and expensive clothing – but after he’d cut contact with his parents and relied solely on the money he earned, he hadn’t any reason to live expensively. If only they could see him now – see what he was about to do.

It was a satisfying thought.

He felt oddly calm, Sehun had reminded him multiple times that this wasn’t something he had to do. He’d had days to think about it – he’d had days to come to the conclusion that this was something he _wanted_ to do.

The doorman smiled at Chanyeol as he approached and Chanyeol bowed slightly in thanks, letting his eyes wander over the interior of the restaurant. It felt like any other overpriced restaurant his parents and ‘friends’ had dragged him to over the years – but he refused to let that dampen the small thread of excitement he felt. He made his way over to the bar, picking up a menu to distract himself from the wait.

He wasn’t left waiting long.

“Park Chanyeol,” The voice greeted, tone confident and calm.

Chanyeol turned, the smile pulling at his lips as he replied, “Mr Kim.”

“You look good.”

“You look-” Chanyeol’s eyes met the stranger’s and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself saying something dumb, “Good,” He then swallowed, “You look good, too.”

 _Beautiful_ , was the word Chanyeol was looking for. _You have the most endearing eyes I’ve ever seen in my life,_ is what he wanted to say – that the man _glowed_. That his suit fit him perfectly, that despite the man’s smaller height, in frame he was larger than Chanyeol – his suit jacket hugged his broad shoulders and left little to the imagination. Instead, Chanyeol blushed, he stared; and blushed harder when he noticed the amused tilt to the older man’s lips and his own incredulous behaviour.

_Pull it together, man._

“Should we sit?” Mr Kim asked and Chanyeol nodded, not trusting his voice to act in his favour.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting – but he was certain it wasn’t this.

They were shown to a lone table near the back of the restaurant – a table that was reserved, Chanyeol noted as he sat down carefully and tried to keep his long limbs from doing something embarrassing. It was silent for a few moments as Chanyeol kept his gaze focused on the menu (unable to read, just staring), he assumed Mr Kim was doing the same until he stole a glance upwards, only to meet the eyes of the man in question. He did not blush – he was not some inexperienced teen who struggled to last 5 minutes in the bedroom. Park Chanyeol was _not_ blushing.

He wanted to crawl beneath the table and hide beneath the table cloth costlier than his rent.

“So,” Mr Kim started, his lips twitching upwards, “Nervous?”

“No,” Chanyeol said all too quickly, wanting to narrow his eyes at the way the older man grinned, “I’m not usually like this.”

“You’re not usually shy and prepubescent?” He was teasing him. Chanyeol scowled.

He closed over the menu, holding onto his scowl as he replied, “I’m not used to being on this side of the table. I’m usually the one… making an impression.”

“Ah, so it’s my fault?” Mr Kim smirked, waiting for Chanyeol’s resigned nod, “I see. You’re cute.”

Chanyeol groaned, swallowing his retaliation and instead mumbling, “You’re not funny.”

He found it easier to relax when the waiter appeared to list their orders, Mr Kim offering to buy an expensive (see also: the most expensive) bottle of wine and Chanyeol agreeing under the condition that Mr Kim drank most of it. They both ordered their food and Chanyeol found himself unable to look away from the other man as he spoke to their waiter – Chanyeol was slightly taken aback by the easy boldness that the other man revelled in, perhaps by how smooth his words sounded on his tongue. The way he held himself demanded attention and yet the other appeared more relaxed than Chanyeol tried to look.

Most certainly a lawyer, Chanyeol thought, but not quite the type he was used to.

When he finished ordering, he looked back to Chanyeol and smiled comfortably. For a split second, Chanyeol felt like he was dying. Without being too dramatic.

“A lawyer,” Chanyeol distracted himself by asking, “Is it stressful?”

“At times,” The other agreed, his eyes not leaving Chanyeol’s, “Are you a student?”

“I was,” He replied, the empty wine glass suddenly more interesting to stare at than before.

Mr Kim nodded, “Any particular reason you’re not, anymore?”

Parents. Arrogance. His own pride. He had been the one to terminate his relationship with his parents, refusing to accept a cent and moving to a city they’d never find him at the cost of his education. He never would’ve been eligible for scholarships with the kind of money his parents made.

“A long story – maybe I’ll share it next time.”

“Next time,” The eyes that had previously winded Chanyeol were even more breath-taking when Mr Kim smiled, “That does sound promising.”

The man was undoubtedly beautiful – but Chanyeol was no stranger to beautiful men, so that left him with the question of why. Why was he so easily effected by a man he’d never even met before? Chanyeol was flustered, he wanted to impress the elder without making a fool out of himself in the process.

Chanyeol swallowed, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table, “I was told you were the one I needed to impress.”

Chuckling, the lawyer started to pour wine into Chanyeol’s glass, “Believe me, you’re more than adequate.”

Looking up, Chanyeol found his mind at a loss as to how he was supposed to reply. He chose to let the moment go and watch the rising red liquid in his glass, unsure how his choices in life had led to him having dinner with one of the most beautiful men he’d ever met. Perhaps he should’ve let Sehun talk him into this sooner.

“Your voice is deeper than I expected,” The lawyer continued, filling his own glass next.

“Is that a problem,” Chanyeol asked, looking back to the other man as he added, “Mr Kim?”

“Not at all,” He replied easily, an amused glint to his eyes, “Call me Minseok.”

“Kim Minseok,” Chanyeol repeated the name, it felt good to say and he tried not to think about the way it would sound in _other_ circumstances, “I was unsure if you planned on keeping your name a secret.”

“I considered it,” Minseok admitted, “If this hadn’t worked out, I would’ve.”

“Worked out?”

“Our arrangement,” He informed, leaning back in his chair, “The decision is yours.”

“Mine?”

“Mhm. Are you going to answer or are you going to continue repeating the things I say back to me?”

That was all it took for Minseok to force Chanyeol’s blush to rise to his cheeks.

“I wasn’t expecting… I mean – so easily?”

“You seem surprised,” Minseok returned, watching Chanyeol fumble over his words, “Were you expecting something else?”

Chanyeol sipped the wine, clearing his throat, “My answer is yes.”

“I know. I was curious as to how long you’d continue embarrassing yourself.”

“I don’t think I like you.”

“That’s a shame, should I get the bill?” Minseok smiled sweetly.

“Shut up.”

  


* * *

  


Stood in an elevator next to Kim Minseok made Chanyeol as excited as he was nervous. The other man was smaller and yet his presence made Chanyeol feel half his height – it had been the same at dinner. They’d made idle chatter, filled the time even though they were both aware they wanted nothing more than to return to Minseok’s apartment.

They had just been picked up by Minseok’s driver when Chanyeol’s uncertainty had set in.

“I’m new to this,” Chanyeol had admitted over the quiet hum of the car engine with Minseok’s hand on his thigh.

Minseok had glanced up at him, a softer expression on his face as he’d replied, “I know, Junmyeon informed me that Sehun already threatened to cut up my favourite tie if I stepped out of line.”

“All I’m getting from this is Junmyeon is a snitch and you have a favourite tie?” It was Chanyeol’s turn to tease, “Suddenly you’re not half as scary as you seem.”

“You thought I was scary, that _is_ cute. You don’t have to worry, I think there will be something satisfying in taking this slow,” There was obvious suggestion in Minseok’s words, his hand feeling heavier on Chanyeol’s thigh, “Drawing it out.”

Chanyeol hid his blush beneath the collar of his own jacket, pulling the lapels up to cover his face. Kim fucking Minseok effected Chanyeol’s blood pressure more than any unhealthy lifestyle ever could.

The world beyond the elevator was not one Chanyeol had been expecting. He’d expected Minseok to have money – more than enough money, a highly paid lawyer, good at his job, a hard worker, no time for family but enough time to waste money on pleasure. No, Chanyeol was walking into the penthouse apartment of one the highest fucking skyrise buildings in the city. He’d expected Minseok to have a nice apartment; penthouse of a _small_ apartment building at best.

Did Minseok work for fucking gold? The carpet beneath his feet felt like memory foam. It had been ten seconds and Chanyeol was already feeling like Sehun played him.

Walking through the living area, he allowed his eyes to scan across the expanse of floor to ceiling windows that served Chanyeol with a beautiful skyline horizon view, the moon felt a lot larger than before. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he turned to stare at Minseok in slight disbelief.

“I thought you were a lawyer.”

“I am,” Minseok replied, heading towards the kitchen in the corner without expanding.

“What kind of lawyer…” Chanyeol murmured, turning back to the darkened sky that felt a lot closer than it did an hour ago, “I got it – you’re a corrupt lawyer accepting under-the-table money to fix cases for rich mafia bosses.”

Minseok laughed, “Maybe I’ll share – next time.”

“Touché,” Chanyeol replied, squashing down the thought of _wow I really like that laugh if there was one sound I had to listen to for the rest of my life-_

He shut his mind up by wandering around the open plan living area. The carpet really felt like memory foam. Fluffier.

Minseok took his time pouring out two glasses of an amber Chanyeol didn’t recognise from look alone. It was when he held out Chanyeol’s glass that he noticed Minseok had rolled up his dress shirt sleeves to reveal tan, toned forearms. His tongue felt dry. Averting his eyes, he took the glass and sat himself quietly on the sofa, anticipation already settling low in his stomach.

“Are you seeing anyone, Chanyeol?”

The way Minseok said his name made Chanyeol’s grip on the glass tighten.

“I’m not,” He replied, sipping his drink, “Are you?”

Scotch whiskey. Chanyeol hadn’t tasted something this expensive since Sehun convinced him to break into his parent’s wine cellar reserved for the grander parties. It had been a fun evening.

“I don’t have time for stringed commitment,” Minseok answered, “What’s your excuse?”

“Never found permanency appealing,” Chanyeol admitted in honesty.

Placing his glass down on the glass table, Minseok hummed, “Take your suit jacket off.”

Chanyeol complied, his skin feeling ten degrees hotter than seconds ago. As much as he wanted to say the mood change was sudden, he’d be lying – the moment Minseok had placed his hand on the small of Chanyeol’s back and walked him to the car, Chanyeol had been willing to drop to his knees and be _good._

“Asking isn’t your thing?” Chanyeol placed his suit jacket on the sofa next to him.

“I’m not the one who needs to ask,” Minseok replied, considerably content.

“I see that,” Chanyeol replied, watching Minseok closely as he added, “Mr Kim.”

Minseok’s lips tilted upwards slightly, “I was hoping you would, Princess.”

It took a considerable amount of self-control for Chanyeol to bite back the curse on the tip of his tongue. Princess. Chanyeol had never felt so small – so turned on – in his life. He was used to being the one in charge, on top, _dominant;_ Minseok took all of that from him, stripped him down with a simple tilt of his head, eyes watching for every tiny move Chanyeol made. His eyes reminded Chanyeol of a cat, pretty, sure, sly and deceiving – perched above a mouth and a tongue that could tear him open.

“Stand up,” Minseok started, his finger trailing along the rim of his glass, “And unbutton your shirt, for me.”

Chanyeol did so without a sound, the anticipation flooding his veins as his fingers began to unbutton his shirt. He took his time – not too much time – but enough time to not seem eager. Minseok huffed, raising an eyebrow as Chanyeol undid the last button. He let his shirt fall open to reveal the skin beneath.

“Something wrong?” Chanyeol asked, faking innocence with a smile.

“Come here.”

He moved to stand in front of the elder, his heart beating a little less systematic than before. Even like this, looking down at Minseok – even like this, with Minseok sat before him, Chanyeol was well aware that none of the power in the room belonged to him. Chanyeol wasn’t used to wanting things.

His breath hitched when he felt Minseok’s finger trailing along the skin above his belt, his anticipation growing into something close to want. The finger paused at his buckle, hooking lightly so he could direct Chanyeol.

“On your knees,” Minseok’s voice was low, certain.

Chanyeol lowered himself to his knees, the expensive carpet providing enough cushioning for comfort as Chanyeol fitted himself between Minseok’s open legs. He remained silent, his arms hanging uselessly by his sides itching to touch, to feel the other man with his hands. He looked up, want swirling in his stomach at Minseok’s satisfaction.

“Can I...” Chanyeol trailed, his hands hesitating at his sides.

Minseok smirked, well aware of what Chanyeol was trying to ask, “Use your words, Kitten.”

“Can I touch you?”

“Mhm.”

He placed his hands on Minseok’s knees, feeling the firm muscle beneath his fingers as his hands followed the length of Minseok’s thighs. Increasing the pressure of his hands, he traced his right hand towards the elder’s hips and paused. Moving his eyes from his own hands and to Minseok’s eyes in question, the other man gave him no answer and instead watched, a curious look in his eyes. Chanyeol dipped his hand into the softer inside of Minseok’s thighs.

Gaining more confidence in his actions, he drew nearer to Minseok’s bulge and palmed him softly, watching Minseok carefully and ignoring the fact that Minseok felt big and he wasn’t even fully hard.

“You never told me you were a tease,” Minseok said, his voice a little more controlled than before.

“You never asked,” Chanyeol replied, before applying more pressure with his palm, “I want to taste you.”

“Maybe if _you ask._ ”

“Mr Kim,” Chanyeol looked up, feigned innocence on his face as he moved his hand against Minseok’s crotch, “Can I?”

“Can you what? I already told you to use your words, Kitten,” Minseok trailed his fingers along the arm of the chair, “I don’t like to repeat myself.”

Chanyeol swallowed, taking a breath. He was already hard and they hadn’t even done anything – he wasn’t used to this, it was unfamiliar and Chanyeol loved it. He wasn’t familiar with asking to suck his partner’s cock and part of him already wanted to know what would happen if he didn’t ask. He stored the thought for another time and bit his lip.

“Can I taste your cock, Mr Kim?”

Minseok smiled – smirked – and Chanyeol’s breath caught in his throat.

“Yes.”

Chanyeol’s hands were no longer hesitant as they undid Minseok’s belt and trousers, not bothering to pull the elder’s trousers down and instead just his underwear. He took Minseok into his mouth, using his hands to pump where his mouth couldn’t yet reach and using his own saliva to help the slide of his hands. Beneath him, Minseok groaned – the sound went straight to Chanyeol’s dick.

Minseok let out a content breath, relaxing back into the chair and tangling his hand in Chanyeol’s hair. He didn’t push, merely scratched his nails gently against Chanyeol’s scalp and Chanyeol _keened._

“So pretty,” Minseok praised, his words breathless as he continued to tease his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair.

Chanyeol’s lips were tingling, both from the alcohol and from having them stretched around Minseok. He fell into a rhythm, taking Minseok deeper each time – this wasn’t his first time blowing a dude, but it was his first time blowing someone who resisted thrusting up into his mouth. As much as he wanted that, as much as he wanted Minseok to just tighten his grip and use his mouth, he was just as turned on by the mere control Minseok exhibited over everything.

All too soon, Minseok was tugging him up by his hair and Chanyeol whined – until Minseok pulled him in to kiss, a hand still tangled in his hair as he licked into Chanyeol’s mouth. Chanyeol groaned into the kiss, submitting completely to Minseok’s mouth and enjoying very moment of it. Minseok wasn’t rough – his movements were strong, confident, dominating and Chanyeol found himself whimpering into the other’s mouth as his dick pressed against Minseok’s thigh.

“Take your pants off,” Minseok said as he broke from Chanyeol’s mouth, littering small kisses down Chanyeol’s jawline as he spoke, “Spread yourself out on the sofa, for me.”

Chanyeol complied, sliding both his pants and underwear off and moving to sit on the sofa. Minseok waited for a moment, watching him with his eyes dark. He ran his thumb along his own lower lip to clean away the spit and Chanyeol almost moaned from the sight alone. Minseok pushed himself up, moving to stand between Chanyeol’s semi-spread legs.

When he lowered himself to his knees, Chanyeol almost whimpered.

Minseok’s hands were warm on Chanyeol’s legs, but they didn’t linger long as Minseok pushed Chanyeol’s legs open wider.

“What are you...?” Chanyeol asked, aware that if he looked down his chest would be tinted red with blush.

“I’m going to be honest,” Minseok started as he started stroking Chanyeol’s cock, “I don’t usually do this.”

Chanyeol bit his lip to keep quiet as Minseok’s other hand began to knead the muscle on the inside of Chanyeol’s thigh.

“But you look so fucking good.”

And with that, Minseok lowered his mouth to Chanyeol’s hole.

This time, Chanyeol whimpered, the entire bottom half of his body out of his control – Minseok’s hand felt so good on his dick, but his _tongue,_ Chanyeol was fucked. His head lolled back as he continued to moan, his arms trembling on the sofa – Minseok went on, moulding Chanyeol into a mess beneath his hands and mouth.

It didn’t take long for Chanyeol’s moans to turn into something less conceivable and when Minseok pulled his head away, his lips wet, the strength in Chanyeol’s arms failed him and he fell back against the sofa cushions. He was so fucked.

Minseok leaned away to receive something from a drawer under the table and Chanyeol almost whimpered again at the mere thought of what was about to happen. He was painfully hard, pre-come leaving a small wet trail wherever it touched.

At the press of Minseok’s lubed finger to his entrance, the pleas fell from Chanyeol’s lips without his full awareness.

“Please-just- _oh_.”

“That’s a good boy,” Minseok began, pumping his hand as he hummed in thought, “You take my fingers so well, Princess. Do you finger yourself, hm?”

Chanyeol tried to cover his face with his hand, well-aware he was blushing harder than before – but one look from Minseok had him lowering his hand back to the sofa. He nodded, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he tried to keep his own hips still.

Minseok hummed again, kissing the inside of Chanyeol’s thigh as he added another finger. The stretch wasn’t too uncomfortable but Minseok distracted him with his mouth regardless, marking the sensitive skin on Chanyeol’s thighs. Chanyeol was breathing hard, hands digging into the soft cushions beneath him, he wanted more but he knew he had no power here – this was Minseok’s pace and Minseok wanted him wrecked.

By the fourth finger, Chanyeol was a mess – his breath left his lungs in short pants and his mind screamed with want. When Minseok curled his fingers up, Chanyeol also jolted up, a sob leaving his mouth at the white hot pleasure.

“So pretty for me,” Minseok said in a low tone, “So perfect.”

“Minseok,” Chanyeol wanted to sob, “Fuck, please-fuck me.”

It didn’t take long for Minseok to withdraw his fingers, what Chanyeol was not expecting was to be pulled down onto Minseok’s lap – the other stroked him slowly as he sat down in Minseok’s lap, the stretch causing him to bury his head in the crook of Minseok’s neck. When Chanyeol’s ass met Minseok’s thighs, it took him more than a few moments to adjust.

His hands gripped Minseok’s shirt, thighs trembling and Minseok soothed him, pressed kisses along his mouth and to his ear, whispering a quiet ‘ _you’re doing so well, baby boy’_ that made Chanyeol whine into the elder’s neck.

Minseok’s hands were running across his thighs, up his stomach and down his back in soft motions as he waited. Chanyeol was breathing hard, mustering the strength in his thighs to start moving. Minseok caught his lips, kissing him slow and gentle as his hands continued to knead Chanyeol’s thighs and ass.

With the support of Minseok, Chanyeol began to rock himself on the other’s lap. The pleasure was almost instant and his thighs continued to tremble, less so with the support of Minseok’s hands on his ass. It took a few moments for him to find a comfortable rhythm, lifting himself up and dropping back down until Minseok’s cock filled him up again. Moaning almost repetitively, he moved his hands to the sofa behind Minseok’s head and picked up his rhythm – Minseok thrusted up to meet him and Chanyeol couldn’t help the yell that left his mouth alongside his please because Minseok felt _so fucking good._

Minseok was nipping along Chanyeol’s neck, his teeth leaving marks as he fucked up into Chanyeol. Chanyeol pushed back just as hard, meeting Minseok’s thrusts and drawing a low groan from the other man – the sound spurred Chanyeol on and he rocked harder against the other, riding Minseok’s thighs and crying out every time Minseok thrusted up at just the right time.

“Shit- _fuck,_ ” Chanyeol let out, unable to catch the curses, “Minseok – _Mr Kim._ Please-,”

His own dick was left neglected between them as Chanyeol bounced, Minseok panting hard against his skin – when he reached to relieve himself, Minseok caught his hand and pressed it back to his own shoulder. Minseok was slowly picking up the pace, his hands gripping Chanyeol’s hips so tight he was certain there’d be bruises. Chanyeol was forced to hold on to the broad shoulders, his thighs burning as Minseok fucked into him harder and Chanyeol attempted to rut down.

“No touching,” Minseok answered Chanyeol’s pleas, “Be good for me, baby.”

“I-fuck,” Chanyeol groaned, his fingernails digging into Minseok’s shoulders as he chased his release, “I don’t-I _can’t._ ”

“You can,” Minseok murmured, using his own strength to bounce Chanyeol as Chanyeol’s strength began to waver, “You can, Princess. For me.”

“ _Please,_ ” Chanyeol let out, sobbing into Minseok’s chest, “I don’t think I-”

Minseok bit down onto Chanyeol’s clavicle _hard_ and Chanyeol yelled out, every movement Minseok made causing pleasure to shoot up his spine as he found the perfect angle to rut into Chanyeol. Chanyeol’s words became incomprehensible as he tightened his grip on Minseok’s shoulders, his nails leaving track marks even through the shirt. The sweat trickling down his back was nothing compared to the way Minseok snapped his hips up and into Chanyeol – Minseok’s voice at his ear, tone deep and demanding.

He could feel his lower stomach curling tight, a begging need for release that had Chanyeol whining pathetically. He’d never felt so good.

“Chanyeol,” Minseok’s voice was almost a growl, “Baby, you’re doing so well, so _good,_ ” He thrusted up harder, Chanyeol yelling his name with the last of his energy, “You want to be a good boy? Come for me.”

Chanyeol’s hips stuttered, the pleasure rolling over him in waves as he came hard between them. He let out a hiccupped moan into Minseok’s chest as Minseok’s thrusts grew more erratic with the pleasure of Chanyeol’s ass tightening, hot, around him. He groaned Chanyeol’s name, spilling into the younger with the last of his thrusts.

Collapsing forward, Chanyeol fell into Minseok with his strength diminished – Minseok’s chest was rising and falling hard as he breathed, but Chanyeol still curled against him when Minseok raised his arms to wrap around Chanyeol. It should have been awkward, given Chanyeol’s extra height – it wasn’t, it was comfortable, content with post-orgasm bliss.

Chanyeol’s come was sticky where they pressed against each other, but neither of them complained; Minseok dropped a kiss on Chanyeol’s sweaty hairline, chuckling a little at Chanyeol’s little huff.

They remained stayed still for a few further moments, catching their breath.

“That was nice,” Chanyeol’s voice sounded rough when he spoke.

Chanyeol felt the puff of Minseok’s laugh on his hair, “I agree. We should clean up, though.”

Tightening his hold on the other, Chanyeol shook his head. He was too tired to move, he was perfectly fine laying here and not cringing at the empty feeling as Minseok removed himself. Everything felt better like this.

“We shouldn’t clean up,” Chanyeol disagreed, tucking his head further into Minseok’s chest.

“We’re cleaning up.”

Chanyeol tilted his head up to pout at Minseok, “I’m tired.”

When Minseok leaned down to kiss Chanyeol’s pouting lips, Chanyeol knew he shouldn’t have felt that flutter in his chest, the light feeling in his stomach – his heart rate shouldn’t have picked up at something the other man considered a pleasure arrangement. That’s not how this worked – not after a day, after _one fuck._

“You did well,” Minseok kissed him again, kissed him until Chanyeol was left breathless and blushing, “Let me take care of you.”

Chanyeol nodded.

If he’d known being taken care of translated to ‘pick Chanyeol up and carry him to a bathroom bigger than his apartment’, he might have rejected. He did reject, a few moments too late, by which time he was already in the air and what the _fuck._

“Baekhyun was right,” Chanyeol huffed as Minseok set him down in the bathroom to run a bath.

“And what was he right about?” Minseok asked, pouring a lotion into the way-too-large bathtub.

“You’re cute,” Chanyeol started.

“I’ll indulge you,” Minseok replied, amused, “Go on.”

“And ripped,” Chanyeol repeated Baekhyun’s words, “A ripped bunny.”

“A ripped bunny,” Minseok repeated.

“I’m still high from the whole-” Chanyeol waved his hands between them, “Orgasm experience. Can I request plausible deniability?”

“Under what pretence?” Minseok asked, indulging him once again in amusement.

“So many.”

Minseok snorted, “So many.”

“Are you telling me ‘so many’ wouldn’t hold up in a court of law?” Chanyeol asked, appreciating the view of Minseok’s back as he disposed of his shirt, letting it drop to the floor.

“Depends how good your lawyer is,” Minseok replied, smugly.

Chanyeol hummed, pretending to consider Minseok for a second, “So, how good are you?”

“Judging from these,” Minseok pointed to the scratches on the back of his shoulders in the mirror, “I’m guessing pretty good.”

“Sorry,” Chanyeol replied, rather sheepishly, “I didn’t… well, I did mean to, but at the time it felt like a good idea, but I just realised we didn’t discuss that, I’m sorry I-”

“You’re cute,” Minseok said again.

“I’m not cute,” Chanyeol grumbled, looking down at the marks on his thighs to avert his gaze.

The marks looked good there, small splotches of dark red and purple painting the paler, softer skin between his thighs. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he liked them – liked the small sting from the bite on his clavicle Minseok left.

“So cute.”

“You were okay, I guess,” Chanyeol shot back in defence.

“I’ll remember that.”

“Shit.”

It turned out that ‘being taken care of’ was a literal meaning, for Minseok cleaned Chanyeol in the bath whilst leaving light trails of kisses everywhere his lips went. Chanyeol felt content in the heat of the water, his back against Minseok’s chest and Minseok’s fingers massaging shampoo through his hair. His thighs ached and he assumed (correctly) that they would hurt even more the following day. He didn’t mind much.

He kind of liked it.

He liked it a lot.

Chanyeol dozed off a few times in the bath, the heat and lack of energy wrapping around him with Minseok’s arms. Minseok pulled him out of the bath, handing him a towel and plopping a smaller one atop his head as he fetched one for himself. There were a few moments wherein Chanyeol debated whether the lull of silence was a good thing – it felt good, natural and comfortable. Stress-free.

Begrudgingly, Baekhyun and Sehun had been right. Good sex, good money.

Kim Minseok.

“Busy?” Minseok asked.

He glanced up to meet Minseok’s eyes in the mirror, smiling a little, “Sleepy.”

He was lead into the bedroom by Minseok, who handed him a large t-shirt and pulled on some comfortable clothes of his own, before tugging Chanyeol beneath the heavy covers of the bed. Chanyeol curled up around Minseok’s side, his hands tracing light patterns on the muscle beneath as he allowed his own breathing to even out and his mind to drift.


	2. Chapter 2

Chanyeol awoke to an empty bed, something expected considering the man now paying his ass worked enough to afford a place like _this_

He hadn’t had a chance to take in much of the bedroom considering the lights had been dimmed the night before, but even the sheets felt like heaven against his skin – or rather, his thighs, as all Minseok had given him to wear the night before was a large jumper. On the topic of thighs; the moment Chanyeol had attempted to roll over on the bed, his thighs feat lower region halted his movements when his muscles tightened in protest.

A physical reminder of the previous night.

Chanyeol found himself almost smiling at the thought, pushing himself up onto his elbows as he considered the best way to move in favour of his aching muscles, choosing first to actually sit up. He’d done that. Last night. Had sat in Minseok’s lap and _begged_ and it had felt _good_ , he’d be willing to do it all over again just to hear the way Minseok growled his name. His mind was still stuck in the slow process of both recalling the events and waking up as he ran a hand through his hair – he had no idea what time it was, nor where his clothes were. Was he supposed to just leave?

His phone was found on the bedside cabinet alongside a note written in fancy scrawl.

_‘I sent your suit to be cleaned – you’re welcome to wear something of mine and collect your clothes next time. I enjoyed last night.  
-Mr. K’_

Chanyeol glanced up from the note to Minseok’s wardrobe. Would anything belonging to Minseok even fit him? 

His phone vibrated in his hand, lighting up his screen with ‘10.24am’ and a text from Sehun.

_[(tall) man child]_  
> someone didn’t come home last night. and it wasn’t baek, who did come home,  
> this isn’t even his home  
> we need to change the locks  
> who even gave him a key  
> anyways hope ur not dead lol 

Not bothering to indulge his best friend, Chanyeol yawned and clicked the call button.

“Not dead,” Sehun greeted when he answered.

“Not dead,” Chanyeol clarified, stretching his legs out in front of him with a groan, “Far from it.”

“I’m not gonna say I told you so,” Sehun said just as Baekhyun yelled ‘I told you so’ from somewhere in the background.

There was a pause, Baekhyun yelping, and then a thump. Chanyeol waited.

“Wanna get lunch?” Sehun asked.

Chanyeol yawned again, “Uh-huh.”

“Wow, he fucked you that good?”

“Shut up,” He didn’t need a mirror to know his traitor face was blushing.

“You’re paying.”

After the phone call, Chanyeol found the energy and curiosity to peek through Minseok’s wardrobe. At first, everything looked and felt like something pricier than Chanyeol wanted to consider borrowing and washing on his own. The further he walked through the wardrobe, his hand running along the clothes in consideration, the more relaxed the attire appeared. He pulled out a turtleneck jumper – it was huge, probably fitted to Minseok’s wild shoulders.

It smelled nice and the sleeves fell beyond his fingertips when he pulled it on; he wasn’t complaining.

For trousers, he had to settle for a pair of ripped jeans that had been rolled up at the bottom – when he rolled down the cuffs, he looked reasonable suitable for social situations. Also, he was wearing Minseok’s clothes, which was kind of… hot. Minseok’s broad shoulders meant the sweater hung loosely on Chanyeol’s frame, the hem reaching down to mid-thigh and as he pulled on the ripped jeans, he could feel the aching pangs from his thighs and ass. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling – but he didn’t consider it unpleasant.

He pocketed his phone (and Minseok’s note), making the bed before he headed over to the elevator. His eyes still followed the stretch of windows in awe, dropping down into the morning rush of the city below in thought. There was something more to Minseok than being _just_ a lawyer. He knew Junmyeon lived well, his apartment was nice and he spoiled Sehun just as much. But, Junmyeon didn’t live in a central city penthouse apartment of a sky-rise building – like this.

Or perhaps Chanyeol was over-thinking this and Minseok was just a _good_ lawyer.

It wasn’t until he was in the taxi to meet his friends that he bothered to check his account balance – and almost choked on his own lungs with how quick he inhaled. The taxi driver shot him an eyebrow raise in the rear-view mirror as Chanyeol continued to stare at the digits on his phone screen, and yeah, Baekhyun had been right. He considered himself lucky that his bank knew of his family name – if not, he was almost certain he’d have been flagged for fraud or suspicious activity.

At least they could move apartments, now.

He opted to exit the taxi a block before the café he was meeting the duo at for lunch – mainly because he was early, but also because he wanted the time to breathe and walk. He’d enjoyed the night prior, had enjoyed the way Minseok had made him feel. The money might have also played a part in Chanyeol’s new found contentedness.

His mindfulness lasted for all of 30 seconds, in which time his eyes landed on a magazine stand in the window of one of the smaller shops. He paused mid-step, mouth falling open at the row of economic magazines he was met with. Times Magazine’s Top 100.

_‘Exclusive: Kim Xiumin – how branching into China gave way for the country’s biggest and most successful law firm.’_

Beneath the headline was Minseok – suit and hair fitting for a reputable magazine, leaning against a wooden desk with the city’s horizon coming through the window behind him. Chanyeol would have recognised those eyes anywhere; the sharp corners, cat-like, demandingly _indecent_. The hardened line of his shoulders remained as confident as Chanyeol remembered and the waist-coat hugged him in ways Chanyeol had to stop himself from thinking about.

He was going to fucking kill Sehun.

And yeah, maybe he was slightly agitated over the fact that he’d just had to buy a fucking economy magazine.

When he finally reached the café, his mood had shifted from shock to a simmering anger. He bit his tongue as he reached their usual table, silently placing the magazine down in its centre and taking a seat. Sehun let out a monotone ‘ah’ and Baekhyun found it within himself to look mildly sheepish.

“I just fucked one of the richest bachelors in the fucking country,” Chanyeol paused, eyes flickering from Baekhyun back to Sehun, “And you didn’t think I needed to know?”

“I mean,” Sehun cleared his throat, turning the magazine upside down to make himself feel better, “We didn’t lie.”

“Not only that,” Chanyeol continued, glaring at Sehun over the table, “But he’s the fucking ‘Xi’ in the ‘Chen-Xi’ branch. The firm that is the number one competitor against _my fucking parents’ firm._ What the fuck, Sehun?”

“Look on the bright side,” Baekhyun started, receiving glares from both Sehun and Chanyeol, “What better way to say ‘fuck you’-,”

“I’m _fucked,_ ” Chanyeol interrupted him in disbelief, “If they find out-if _he_ finds out – what the fuck am I supposed to say? Oops? I’m still not seeing why your little-,”

“Fuck you. I’m not _little,_ just because you’re weirdly tall-,”

“-didn’t see this as something I should’ve known? I haven’t seen my parents in _years_ and now I’m being paid to fuck the leading partner of their _enemy-_ ,”

“Oh my god. Both of you, shut up,” Sehun cut in, throwing menus at the both of them and scowling, “Baekhyun, you’re kinda small, don’t pretend you don’t like it – Chanyeol, did you just use the word ‘enemy’?

The two fell silent, scowling down at the café menus like they weren’t going to order the same thing they always ordered. Chanyeol had every right to feel pissed off, he needed to think about this – think about the fact he really did just sleep with _Kim Xiumin._ Was Minseok even aware of who Chanyeol was? He doubted it, Chanyeol had always avoided public affiliation with his parents and he didn’t doubt they hid the fact that their son was a gay college drop-out living on free-lance money earned from music.

“Does he know?” Chanyeol asked, only after they’d given their orders.

“Probably not,” Sehun replied, looking mildly apologetic, “We should’ve told you, but…”

“You would’ve backed out,” Baekhyun said, bluntly, “And you wouldn’t have that pretty mark to show for it.”

Chanyeol pulled the collar of the sweatshirt up, looking out of the window to avoid their eyes, “I hate you both.”

“You enjoyed it though, right?” Smirked Sehun, toying with his napkin, “And you’re gonna go see him again, even after finding out. So what’s your problem?”

“Looks like he’s already got you in his clothes, anyway,” Baekhyun grinned in his attempt to lighten the mood, “How was it? Was it good?”

“We cuddled and watched Disney movies all night,” Chanyeol deadpanned, nodding a thanks to the waitress for his hot chocolate.

Baekhyun hummed, leaning forward to lick the cream from his latte, “I can’t remember the last time I had to borrow clothes.”

“Yesterday,” Sehun answered, “You borrowed _mine._ ”

“Don’t be pissy, just ‘cause half your wardrobe is at Junmyeon’s.”

It wasn’t often they got to see Sehun blush, but this was one of those moments. Chanyeol made a mental note to dig deeper into the aforementioned situation with one Kim Junmyeon and sugar baby Oh Sehun, on the topic of thoughts and feelings.

Sehun started to rip the napkin into smaller pieces as he replied, “We’re not talking about that.”

And just like that, they were back to casual topics and semi-offensive remarks. Chanyeol couldn’t keep his eyes from falling back onto the magazine, deciding to give in and just Google ‘Xiumin’ like he hadn’t heard the name cursed around the corridors of his parents’ law firm a thousand times. He remembered the cute paralegal who he’d helped file the top shelf documents with one night explain – nobody simply entered a court room with Kim Xiumin without an entire notebook of prior research in tow. Chanyeol couldn’t say he’d ever slept with someone who had a Wikipedia page, before – he couldn’t say he’d ever slept with someone whose name was followed by the suggestion ‘net worth’.

The penthouse made sense, now – but Chanyeol couldn’t help but feel a little… inadequate. In a larger picture, he really was nothing more than a private business associate. He knew that. He did

This was bigger than just playing sugar baby to a wealthy lawyer. Kim Minseok was not anonymous to the world – his real name might be, perhaps, and his private life; but everything else was open to public inspection. Chanyeol low-key wished he hadn’t found out; it would’ve made the complications of their set up far easier to deal with.

He had to talk to Minseok, at least – make sure the older man was aware of _who_ Chanyeol was. Eventually.  
  


* * *

  
The next time he heard from Minseok was the Friday night. He was laid down, his long legs across Baekhyun’s stomach (on Sehun’s bed) and playing random demos for Baekhyun to listen to and critique. Baekhyun had always had a good ear for Chanyeol’s music and his participations in musical theatre at the place Chanyeol worked had strengthened his voice into something Chanyeol enjoyed listening to.

What caught him off guard was the fact that Minseok called him – they’d only ever spoken through text before; so when Chanyeol’s phone had started to ring, he picked it up without checking the caller ID in presumption it was Sehun.

It wasn’t Sehun.

“Dude, pick up food ‘cause Baek’s here and he’s destroyed our fucking cupboards. And none of that weird fructose shit – that gross-ass diabetes-inducing bull is not real food.”

“Oh, is that so?”

And Chanyeol fell sideways from the bed, hitting the ground with a _‘hmph’_ and sitting up straight to clear his throat, “Oh. Minseok. Hi? I thought you were Sehun.”

“I’m aware – although I wasn’t aware you had such a foul mouth. I’d rather enjoy taking my time to do something about that.”

Chanyeol’s mouth dropped open into an ‘O’ and he glanced up at Baekhyun, the blush already starting to paint his cheeks red, “I really should’ve checked the caller ID. It won’t happen again.”

Baekhyun snorted.

“I’m assuming you’re not busy,” Minseok continued, the question implied.

“I’m not busy,” He looked up, flashing a grin at Baekhyun’s offended face, “I’m not busy at all.”

“I’m glad. Be ready in 10 minutes.”

“Are you gonna tell him?” Baekhyun asked after he’d hung up.

“If he asks,” Chanyeol replied, “Which he won’t, so, no.”

“It’s probably for the best. I mean, you can’t exactly say _‘what’s up, Mr Kim, I’m Chanyeol of Park International, you know, that one firm you probably want to watch crash and burn-_ ,”

Baekhyun stopped talking when he had to dodge his own laptop being thrown at him.

The next 10 minutes included Chanyeol rushing around the apartment, pulling on more suitable clothes and checking his appearance in every shiny surface he passed – he was lucky he’d decided to shower that morning. It wasn’t until he was pulling on his shoes that he realised he was wearing Minseok’s jeans; at least if he wore them back to Minseok’s, he could swap them for his own clothes. He switched his shirt for the turtleneck he’d borrowed from Minseok and threw on his jacket, dashing out the door when his phone flashed to alert him that the lawyer was outside.

He took the steps two at a time to the lobby, simultaneously trying to appear socially acceptable and not trip over his own feet.

Sliding into the familiar black car, he could feel his cheeks were red from the running and the cold outside. He wasn’t panting hard. Ish.

“Are you in a rush?” Minseok asked, a quirk to his eyebrow that almost made Chanyeol melt into the leather seat.

“I didn’t want to-,” _Pant,_ “Keep you waiting.”

“You’re worth the wait, Chanyeol.”

At least his reddened cheeks from exertion would hide any blush he had.

Minseok’s driver didn’t need to be told to start driving away as Chanyeol deflated into the seat. The lawyer was still in his work suit, different from the fancier suit he’d first seen him wear. He couldn’t complain, he was half certain Minseok would look more than good enough regardless of attire.

The hum of the engine filled the space between them as Minseok’s hand found its way to Chanyeol’s thigh, his fingers playing with the frayed edges of the rips in the jeans (that belonged to Minseok). Chanyeol tried not to think about it, much.

“Nice clothes,” Minseok commented, slipping his warm fingers beneath the rips.

It required a certain amount of effort to supress his shudder, “Thanks for letting me borrow them.”

The lawyer hummed, fingers tracing Chanyeol’s skin lightly, “You look good in my clothes.”

The journey to Minseok’s apartment was quiet after that, Chanyeol not feeling the urge to fill the silence with idle small talk like the first time they’d met. He felt more comfortable like this, the car keeping him warm and Minseok’s fingers tracing along the bare sections of his thighs. He took more time to appreciate Minseok in this light, his stature pristine, his skin smooth and his eyes sharp. Chanyeol liked the possessive hand on his thigh, already familiar with the motion although Minseok’s eyes were focused elsewhere outside the window.

Part of Chanyeol wanted to ask about Minseok’s week – ask if he’d had any interesting cases at work, if there were people who had irked him; but he didn’t want to seem too invested, too personal. Their set-up wasn’t personal, it was business… Chanyeol left at the end with a nice sum and Minseok did as he pleased. Chanyeol wasn’t sure why the thought felt so unsettled within him.

By the time they reached Minseok’s apartment, the sky was fully dark again.

Chanyeol’s initial intention had been to wander into the living area the way he’d done a few days prior – but the moment they were over the threshold to the apartment, Chanyeol’s wrist was in Minseok’s grip and he was being pushed against the wall. Minseok’s hand in his hair brought their lips together roughly, the grip not relenting as Minseok’s teeth on his bottom lip pulled a gasp from Chanyeol. When Minseok pushed his tongue into Chanyeol’s mouth without hesitance, Chanyeol found himself forced to grip Minseok’s hips tight to keep his head from swimming.

The kiss wasn’t rushed, more so rough, the air forced from Chanyeol’s lungs faster than he anticipated. When he pulled away to breathe, Minseok slid his thigh between Chanyeol’s legs, forcing them open and pulling a stutter from Chanyeol’s breathing – and Chanyeol wasn’t even sure he was aware what was happening, but he was happy to comply. Minseok’s mouth followed the line of Chanyeol’s jaw to his ear, lowering to his neck as he sucked marks into the area above the neck of the sweater. Chanyeol threw his head back, offering more of his neck as he all but grinded back against Minseok’s thigh.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” Minseok said lowly, pushing his thigh into Chanyeol’s hardening cock, “All week.”

“It’s been three day- _ah!_ ” Chanyeol was interrupted by Minseok’s teeth biting down, the older man smirking in victory.

“Bedroom.”

Except Minseok’s lips were on his again and Chanyeol couldn’t see where he was going, his feet merely following the path the other man was pushing him in. When Minseok pulled away to lift his own sweater over Chanyeol’s head, he almost groaned at the dishevelled look on the other man – his lips were red and swollen, his clothing amess and Chanyeol wanted nothing more than see the man wrecked.

He was pushed back onto the bed, Minseok straddling his hips and biting Chanyeol’s bottom lip – and when Chanyeol lifted his hands to touch Minseok, Minseok pressed both of his wrists to the bed above his head without speaking. The harsher nip of teeth was Chanyeol’s only warning. The hands were removed from his wrists as Minseok began to kiss the toned surface of Chanyeol’s stomach, but Chanyeol was aware he wasn’t allowed to move his hands. 

When Minseok’s tongue lapped at his nipple, Chanyeol had to grip the sheets tight in order to go against what every cell in his body was screaming at him to do and touch the man on top of him. He all but whined, high and quiet and hoping Minseok hadn’t heard – but he could feel the man smirking against his skin, his saliva leaving Chanyeol’s nipple cold when he moved to lick a stripe up Chanyeol’s stomach. Minseok only seemed more satisfied when he shifted his hips against Chanyeol’s bulge, feeling the younger man’s muscles tense beneath his tongue.

Minseok continued his ministrations until he reached the waist of Chanyeol’s jeans. He sat up to remove his own dress shirt, allowing it to slide to the floor from his position on Chanyeol’s hips – and Chanyeol whined again, wanting nothing more than to run his hands up the smaller man’s toned front.

“Please,” Chanyeol started, looking up at the other, “Can I touch you?”

“Not yet,” Minseok replied, climbing from Chanyeol’s hips to stand, “You can remove those pants, though.”

Chanyeol didn’t hesitate in lifting his hips to slide his own pants off, watching as Minseok took lube and something else from the bedside table. That something else being a plug. A butt plug. Chanyeol felt more blood rush to his dick.

“Remember when I’d asked if you’d fingered yourself before and you said yes?” Minseok asked and Chanyeol nodded, “Show me.”

Minseok squirted the lube onto Chanyeol’s fingers before sitting to the side in wait – Chanyeol could feel his ears burning, part in humiliation and partly at his willingness to do this. He reached down, breath hitching as he worked his first finger into himself. Minseok’s hand on his chin turned his head to meet Minseok’s eyes as he did so, and he couldn’t help the moan that left his lips at the way Minseok looked down at him. Want, Chanyeol presumed, and something more intense.

One of Minseok’s hands was on his stomach, tracing lightly down his sternum and towards his aching cock. He inched lower but never touched, teasing across the soft skin of his hips and back towards Chanyeol’s nipples. At his third finger, the angle was awkward and Minseok leaned down to kiss him through it as he worked his fingers in and out of himself, hips rocking back down onto his fingers.

Minseok lubed up his own fingers slowly, visibly running his eyes from Chanyeol’s own to where he was fingering himself. The action was small and yet Chanyeol still shuddered, a gasp leaving his mouth when Minseok replaced Chanyeol’s fingers with his own. He hooked his fingers upwards once, looking for the place that would make Chanyeol jolt in pleasure – and then smirking when the younger man did just that.

“Show me how you touch yourself, Princess. I want to know what you look like when I’m not here.”

Chanyeol had no quarrels about that, slowly stroking himself as Minseok hummed in appreciation. He stroked his cock slowly, the muscles in his abdomen tense in his effort to keep his hips still and not fuck up into his fist. It was almost embarrassing, how quick he managed to bring himself to the edge – Minseok noticed, too, the smirk stretching on his lips when he slipped his fingers from Chanyeol. He wasn’t left with the feeling of emptiness for long when he felt Minseok push the plug into him, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp as Minseok pushed it deeper.

“Think you can keep it in there for me, Princess?” Minseok asked, pushing himself up from the bed.

Chanyeol took a deep breath, shifting to adjust the plug into a more secure-feeling position, “I-I’ll try.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Minseok’s voice was low, even as he slipped out of his own pants.

He swallowed, meeting Minseok’s stare, “Yes, Mr Kim.”

“Good boy. I’d very much appreciate it if you brought your pretty little mouth over here.”

Chanyeol was quick to comply, biting his lip hard when his movements pushed the plug deeper. He lowered himself to his knees in front of Minseok, looking up at the older man through his eyelashes in silent question – no words were needed as Minseok’s fingers threaded through Chanyeol’s hair, pulling him forward.

He opened his mouth loosely, allowing Minseok to take control of his movement. Minseok slid his cock into Chanyeol’s mouth – he was already hard, which meant he’d gotten hard watching Chanyeol touch himself. The thought made him shudder, the vibrations of his moan making Minseok grip his hair harder. The other man’s hips were moving more than his head and so all he could do was remain still as Minseok slowly fucked his mouth, hips moving in a growing rhythm.

“Does it feel good, Princess? To have your mouth used like this?” Minseok tugged him forward particularly hard and Chanyeol almost gagged, tears pricking his eyes, “I’m going to get a little rough, pinch my arm if you want me to stop, okay?”

He waited for Chanyeol’s nod before snapping his hips forward at a quicker rate, Chanyeol’s lips being forced to stretch further around Minseok’s length. He gagged again, this time his hands raising to clutch Minseok’s hips as the older man fucked deeper into his mouth. He hadn’t asked to touch Minseok but he had no other way to ground himself, his nails digging into the flesh on Minseok’s hips as the tears continued to gather in his eyes.

As Minseok picked up pace, the movement of his body moved the plug in his ass and he groaned, high and whiney, as he clenched around the toy – which only heightened the pleasure shooting up his spine. He could feel his cock, hard and needy against his stomach as Minseok fucked his mouth, hard, until the tears started to fall down his cheeks. The very thought that Minseok had reduced him to this, a whiney mess so pliant beneath the smaller man, was almost enough to push him over the edge.

“You look so good, Kitten, you’re such a good boy for me,” Minseok said as he slowed down into longer, deeper thrusts, “On your knees for me with such a pretty mouth. All for me, hm? _Mine._ ”

And Chanyeol shouldn’t have, not at words like that, but oh boy did he _keen_. If there was no cock in his mouth, he would’ve begged.

When Minseok pulled away from his mouth, he almost whined at the loss of contact, except the lawyer was pulling him up with a hand in his hair to clash their lips together. Chanyeol almost came at the thought of how he must taste, Minseok’s pre-come lining his mouth – it was only a brief kiss, before Minseok was pushing him down onto the bed. His hand lowered between them in search of the end of the plug in Chanyeol’s ass.

Chanyeol winced as it slid from him, the empty feeling growing as he clenched around nothing – Minseok wasn’t in a mood to wait tonight, it seemed, and Chanyeol almost cried in relief. Within moments, Minseok had lubed himself up and was pushing into Chanyeol, lifting Chanyeol’s thighs to wrap around his waist. Minseok’s lack of patience was permanent, for the older man didn’t offer much time before he snapped his hips into Chanyeol, the grotesque sound of skin on skin filling the room above Chanyeol’s cry of pleasure.

His head felt elsewhere, every movement of Minseok’s filling him with a contented pleasure. It wasn’t long before he felt himself ready to climax, his thighs clenching harder around Minseok’s waist as he chased his own release.

“Minseok, I’m gonna-I need to-,”

“No,” Minseok replied, his own moans growing harder to hide, “Not until I say.”

“ _Please,_ ” Any other day, Chanyeol would burn with embarrassment at the way his voice broke in desperation, “Mr Kim, please.”

At that, Minseok leaned down to press bruising kisses against Chanyeol’s shoulders as Chanyeol raked his nails down Minseok’s back in an attempt to halt his own release.

Minseok growled.

Chanyeol almost screamed in an attempt to hold himself together, his legs wrapping tighter around Minseok as the other man found his prostate. Minseok’s name was leaving Chanyeol’s lips in a mantra of pleas and sobs and when Minseok pressed his lips against Chanyeol’s ear, his voice deep and rugged as he growled a _‘come for me, Park Chanyeol’_ , Chanyeol did scream as his vision danced and his hips stuttered. He clenched tight around Minseok as he shot spurts of white between them, his noises fuelling the force at which Minseok fucked into him.

Chanyeol whimpered at the over-sensitivity, letting out another cry when Minseok thrust into him one last time and tensed, spilling into Chanyeol with a low groan of his own.

He collapsed onto the bed next to Chanyeol, his chest rising and falling rapidly as their pants remained the only noise in the bedroom.

Chanyeol doesn’t remember falling asleep, nor does he remember Minseok cleaning him up and wrapping him up under the covers. He was only aware of the warm, content feeling, akin to what he imagined it would feel like if his mind was wrapped in cotton wool, as his mind slipped into slumber.

It was the type of nap where he was certain he dreamed, but could not remember anything beyond brief pictures and flickers of emotion. The slumber was brief, for he soon awoke to an empty bed, his eyes blinking up through the dim lights to the ceiling above. He allowed himself to lay there for a few moments more, his mind attempting to pull together sense and register the ache at the base of his spine. Moving took him longer than he appreciated and he already regretted leaving the warmth of the covers – though he did pull on Minseok’s jumper and his own underwear they’d discarded earlier.

The digital clock on the dressing table flashed midnight – huh, he couldn’t have slept for more than two hours.

His feet appreciated the soft carpet as he padded from the bedroom, his eyes puffy from the short lived sleep but sweeping around the apartment for Minseok all the same. He could look at the skyline view a hundred times and never bore of it, Chanyeol thought, never bore of the feeling of detachment from the world and it’s strings far below – how the moon felt closer and the stars no longer a cold light out of reach. As much as he hated to admit it, he reckoned he could write music well here, sprawled out on Minseok’s sofa with his guitar and laptop. Dangerously domestic.

His eyes finally spotted an ajar door, soft light spilling onto the carpet beneath. He lightly creeped over, not wanting to disturb anything Minseok may have been doing but curious all the same – what he found was Minseok, hair pinned back from his face and round glasses perched on his nose, his shoulders sagged from where his tired eyes scanned over lines of text on a spread of documents in front of him.

Something in Chanyeol’s chest seemed to give way, a small rush of lightness as he watched the other man work. He found himself wandering back to the kitchen, boiling a kettle and searching for the biggest mug in Minseok’s cupboards. He wasn’t sure if Minseok even liked tea – or how he would like his tea if he even liked tea. He used his own experiences; enough sugar to overcome the bitterness from the herbs in the tea and enough milk to eradicate that gross feeling no-milk tea left in the mouth.

Chanyeol felt a little uncertain when he knocked on the door to Minseok’s study, the sleeves of Minseok’s jumper keeping his hands from being burned through the ceramic of the mug. He almost retreated entirely when Minseok’s eyes snapped up, his eyebrow raising at the image of Chanyeol stood there in his jumper armed with a mug of tea.

And when Minseok smiled, small but genuine, Chanyeol really had to fight the feeling of something else from blossoming within his chest.

“Is that for me?” The lawyer’s voice was deep, rough with how tired he must’ve felt.

Chanyeol nodded, trying his hardest not to blush, “I thought you-well, you looked stressed? And I thought maybe… Some tea would help – it used to help me, but – you might not even like it, but I mean-uh, maybe I should’ve asked? I’m sorry?”

And when Minseok laughed, the sound distracting the butterflies in his stomach, he really fucking wished he knew how to control the dumb emotion part of his brain.

“Come here.”

He walked forward and into the study space, holding the tea out in front of him as though it were some form of defence – a useless defence at that, because Minseok lifted his hands and removed the tea from Chanyeol’s hands, setting it aside. Minseok tapped the desk space in front of him, motioning for Chanyeol to sit and Chanyeol silently cursed himself for not putting on his jeans, feeling a little naked in just the jumper and underwear.

Minseok’s head came up to his chest from his position in the chair and the older man opted to place his hands on Chanyeol’s knees, tracing gentle patterns up to Chanyeol’s thighs.

“Thank you for the tea, Chanyeol, but you didn’t need to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Chanyeol protested, a little defensive.

The other man began to gently massage the muscles on Chanyeol’s thighs, easing the aches he’d forgotten about. Minseok had nice hands, his fingers were long and his palms were soft – or rather, Chanyeol chose to focus on Minseok’s hands and not his eyes, because his eyes were another world and dangerously close to Minseok’s lips and Chanyeol really couldn’t justify wanting to kiss the other man until his own breath ran low.

“You look tired,” Is what Chanyeol decided to say, his eyes still focussed on Minseok’s hands.

Minseok shrugged, “It was a busy week.”

“Earlier, when we-,” He did _not_ blush on the topic of sex, he was an _adult_ , “You really needed that, huh?”

“I did,” He answered, “You seemed to enjoy it.”

“I did.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Minseok continued, thumbs brushing over the marks he’d left on Chanyeol’s thighs a few days prior, “You seem content with moving forward, as am I – but I’m only willing to do so if you have a safe word.”

A safe word? That meant things were going to get a little more… into areas where Chanyeol was inexperienced, to say the least. He wouldn’t deny the spark of anticipation the thought brought. He already had a safe word at the ready – you know, for spontaneous moments where he might just happen to need one.

Chanyeol bit his bottom lip lightly, opting for confidence, “Mushroom.”

Minseok didn’t even try to hide his laugh, “Not to question you, but – why?”

“It’s enough to turn any man off,” Chanyeol replied, his voice dropping to a mutter as he continued, “They’re so fucking gross.”

At that, Minseok really did laugh, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I didn’t make you tea for it just to be neglected,” Chanyeol complained, picking up the tea and pushing it into Minseok’s hands, “My blood and sweat went into this.”

The lawyer turned up his nose at the thought, but pulled the mug to his lips regardless. He took a sip, deeming it drinkable as his other hand remained on Chanyeol’s leg. There was a lull in the conversation in which Minseok drank the tea, his eyes falling shut as he breathed. Chanyeol took the hair pin from Minseok’s hair, watching the locks fall forward onto Minseok’s face before he ran his own fingers through it. Minseok hummed in appreciation as Chanyeol ran the tips of his fingers across his scalp, almost laughing at the way Minseok practically purred like a cat when Chanyeol stroked behind his ears.

“Do you have much work left?” Chanyeol asked as Minseok finished the tea.

Minseok just groaned, which Chanyeol took as a yes. He removed the mug from Minseok’s hands and set it on the desk next to him, his fingers still threading through the dark browns of the older man’s hair. Minseok decided to just rest his head on Chanyeol’s thighs, allowing Chanyeol to continue playing with his hair as he placed gentle kisses on Chanyeol’s skin.

Chanyeol laughed a little, sliding the glasses from Minseok’s head so they wouldn’t break, “Maybe you should just go to bed.”

“We,” Minseok corrected, but the reply was muffled against Chanyeol’s leg, “We should go to bed.”

He straightened himself on the chair, peering up at Chanyeol with thought in his eyes. Chanyeol stared back, swallowing around the thought of _’this is a mutually-beneficial business arrangement’_.

“We should just go to bed, then,” Chanyeol said, his voice quieter than he’d intended.

“Kiss me,” Minseok said in reply.

Chanyeol swallowed, moving to get up from the desk, “You’re sleepy.”

Minseok’s hand on his thigh kept him in place on the desk, “I said, kiss me.”

“I know what you said,” Chanyeol muttered, looking beyond Minseok instead of _at_ Minseok, “I just think you’re tired and-,”

“Park Chanyeol.”

And Chanyeol leaned down, his fingers finding themselves back in the older man’s hair as he pressed his lips against Minseok’s. He’d wanted to do this the moment he’d entered the study, had wanted to savour the way in which his mouth fit so well against Minseok’s, to remember the way Minseok licked into his mouth and how it made his veins burn in want.

The kiss wasn’t rough, like earlier, it was slow and careful – like they both wanted to remember each movement, and fuck if Chanyeol ever wanted to forget the way Minseok kissed him like he was the only person he ever wanted to kiss again. And sure, Chanyeol was going to regret allowing his mind to be dragged into this, he was going to regret running his hand up Minseok’s back like Minseok was his to savour – but that was something for tomorrow.

As much as he wanted it to be forever, he supposed tonight would be enough.

And even though he enjoyed it when Minseok reduced him to nothing more than a mess, moulded perfectly beneath his hands, Chanyeol also enjoyed this – it was rather vanilla, the way Minseok took him when they finally made it to the bed, slotted between Chanyeol’s open thighs as he thrust his hips into Chanyeol slowly. But neither of them minded, and when Chanyeol came between them with a choked gasp, Minseok kissed him again and again as his own hips faltered and he slowly rode out his own orgasm.

Chanyeol fell asleep with his head tucked under Minseok’s neck – fell asleep in Minseok’s arms with a content feeling in his chest but a taste of regret on his tongue.

Step One in a Sugar Baby’s Guide to Success: Do Not Fall for Your Sugar Daddy.

He was so fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

Before Chanyeol was even entirely awake, he had a list of things to do scrawled messily across the back of his mind. The first thing on said list was more metaphorical than physically doable – number one, forget the tired slash emotional slip into his _feelings_ from the night prior. He had known what signing his name to this arrangement included before they’d even started; he’d seen the ups and downs that his best friend had gone through. He was a paid stress reliever, and he knew it; he knew Minseok knew it. He was thankful for their setup, he enjoyed what they did and he enjoyed getting paid.

So, why did he feel like he was losing? Perhaps it was just him being _himself_ and finding easy attachment to things. Or people.

He couldn’t help but ponder how different things could have been if he’d gone the route his parents had intended for him – he could have met Minseok under different circumstances with enough relevance to mean something more than… this. Whatever this was. That didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy _this._

Number two – Kim Xiumin. Chen-Xi. Park International. Chanyeol knew who he was – yet Minseok had no idea who Chanyeol was. Son and self-abandoned heir to an executive seat in his parents’ firm. It was no hidden secret that Chen-Xi and Park International went head to head on multiple cases, often their goals less about clientele appeasement and more about kicking the other firm to the dirt. Except Xiumin was different.

Kim Xiumin rarely lost a case against P.I. He’d lost cases, sure, rare and few between – but where Park International was ever involved and Chen-Xi sent in Xiumin, it was a fair guess to say his parents’ firm was fucked. There was bad blood between the two and Chanyeol vividly remembered his father, enraged, cursing Xiumin from beneath his pile of subpoenas. So, yeah, Minseok was a good lawyer; his aura of indifference and degree of apathy was spoken of.

He had no contact with his parents – so why did the ordeal make him so uneasy?

When Chanyeol slid into the seat across from the lawyer, who’d made them both breakfast and stolen all of Chanyeol’s mushrooms before the abominations reached his plate, he readied himself with a long breath. Except, Chanyeol found it rather difficult to lift his eyes from the food in front of him, his chopsticks pushing around whatever classy breakfast Minseok had somehow managed to perfect.

And Minseok waited, chewing silently, a soft expression on his face that told Chanyeol the other was willing to listen.

“There’s something we need to talk about,” Chanyeol started, risking a glance upwards.

“Finally,” Minseok replied, taking a sip of the tea Chanyeol had made (again).

Chanyeol bit the inside of his cheek, before he swallowed, re-thought his words and finally said, “It really is disgusting that you like mushrooms.”

“Chanyeol.”

“I found out something interesting,” Chanyeol hesitated, wishing he’d thought this through, “A few days ago. So, I was just – you know, doing some regular shopping, like all normal people do, when something catches my eye. It’s some magazines, and not _those_ kinda magazines-,”

“Mhm, you’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” Chanyeol answered, setting his chopsticks down, “You’re Xiumin.”

Minseok cocked an eyebrow at him, his tone deadpan, “And, you’re Chanyeol.”

“Park Chanyeol,” He corrected, even though he knew that hardly explained anything, “This is a dick move, but – promise me you won’t get mad.”

“That _is_ a dick move,” Minseok agreed, putting his own chopsticks down as he sighed, “I promise I won’t get mad.”

“Believe me when I say I had no idea who you were,” Chanyeol continued, “Before – I really didn’t know. I dropped out of college, I don’t know anything.”

“I’m sure it isn’t as bad as you’re making it sound.”

Chanyeol rubbed a hand over his face, “My parents – they… Um. They’re partners for this law firm, and… You’re the fucking _Xi_ in _Chen-Xi_ and they’re the fucking _Park_ in _Park International._ ”

The elder placed his chopsticks down.

The silence that followed felt suffocating. Sure, Chanyeol may have been being dramatic, but the wonderfully controlled and blank expression that Minseok was sporting across the table from him did nothing to ease the tightness building in his chest. All he found was a flash of something disappointed in Minseok’s eyes (and _of course_ his only tell-tale when hiding emotion is his fucking _eyes_ _)_ and Chanyeol closed his mouth.

And Chanyeol watched the flashes of consideration like a movie in Minseok’s eyes – the questions, possible answers… Distrust in Chanyeol. Was this some malicious ploy set up by his parents? Or, perhaps, some revenge ploy by Chanyeol in order to get back at them?

He held Minseok’s eyes for a moment before the stare grew overbearing and Chanyeol glanced away – and Chanyeol knew, he _knew_ he should explain. Explain the situation properly, how estranged from his parents he actually was – but would that even make a difference? If Minseok lacked trust in his name for no reason other than bad blood, would he feel the same for anyone involved in P.I?

All is well in law and war, his father use to say.

Regardless of whether or not Chanyeol should have explained, Minseok didn’t allow him the time to do so.

“I have to go to work,” Minseok said, after the silence stretched into discomfort.

“It’s… _Minseok,_ ” Chanyeol tried as Minseok moved to stand, “It’s complicated – I didn’t know. I just…” _I’m the son of the partners of a firm that have tried again and again to destroy your entire occupation,_ “It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure it is,” Minseok’s voice was cold and Chanyeol almost winced, “So, what? Your parents cut you off? You needed money from elsewhere?”

“That’s not fair,” Chanyeol replied, defensive, “You don’t know anything about me.”

“You’re right,” Minseok agreed and Chanyeol really fucking wished the other man was worse at keeping such a blank face, “I don’t know anything about you.”

And Chanyeol nodded, because Minseok was so carefully controlled and Chanyeol wasn’t sure he could sit and continue on a non-embarrassing level. He couldn’t find the words, not with the way Minseok gave him one last look of disappointment before slipping out of sight to get ready. Chanyeol could feel the words of sense catch in his throat, a small reluctance pulling them back down to his stomach – it wasn’t like he’d done anything particularly wrong.

He knew he probably could have (see also: _should have_ ) offered more information, though he couldn’t help but feel an increase in resentment towards his parents. As much as he didn’t want to, he understood Minseok’s view – his parents, their firm, hated Minseok’s firm on terms that ran deeper than business.

“I assume you remember the way out,” Minseok announced when he returned, his tone far too business-like as he fastened his cufflinks.

 _A mutually beneficial business arrangement_ , Chanyeol thought to himself, rather bitterly.

Chanyeol nodded again. He just wanted to crawl home and climb beneath his familiar bedsheets and pretend that the ordeal hadn’t happened – that he was an adult who knew how to deal with adult situations and not create bigger messes.  


* * *

  
  
Laid beneath the protection of his covers the way he’d previously promised himself, Chanyeol felt a little ridiculous. The situation was ridiculous – it was hardly anything to grow pissy about, yet here they were, being pissy. Chanyeol wasn’t throwing a self-pity party… This was a thinking party. For one.

“Can I sleep in here?”

Chanyeol looked up from beneath his own cocoon of blankets, his eyes widening when he registered the tear-stained Sehun standing in his doorway. His best friend’s shoulders were sagging as though he’d lost the will to stand straight and if his eyes were not deceiving him, Sehun hiccupped in attempt to keep the tears from falling further. He could count the times he’d ever seen Sehun like this on one hand – more often than not, it was the other way around, Chanyeol the crying mess and Sehun the sturdy chest to cry into when things fell into shit.

He sat up, a little uncertain on what he was supposed to say.

“Did something happen with Junmyeon?” His own problems were forgotten when Sehun nodded.

Lifting up the blankets, he motioned for Sehun to join him in the cocoon warmth.

The moment Sehun slid beneath his covers, Chanyeol wrapped his own limbs around his best friend, playing the bigger spoon in their cuddling session. Or crying session. Because Sehun started crying again and Chanyeol cared less about his comfort sweater growing tear stained than the fact Sehun was fucking crying and Sehun never cried – and the last time he’d seen him cry involved a dog and a movie and one emotional Sehun.

Chanyeol just pulled Sehun closer to his chest, unsure on what was standard routine in comfort.

There was a certain degree of knowledge that Chanyeol already had in terms of the Sehun-Junmyeon situation. Sehun had met Junmyeon over three years ago, they’d fallen into the standard sugar daddy routine quickly – until it became more than that, and Sehun stopped accepting as much money from Junmyeon and instead spent days at Junmyeon’s apartment, and Junmyeon brought Sehun food when he thought the younger was stressing himself out too much with college.

As much as Sehun brushed it off, it was evident Sehun had quite literally fallen for Junmyeon. And Junmyeon was a sweetheart, but he was dumb – Chanyeol had stated this before, because Junmyeon looked forward to seeing Sehun as much as Sehun looked forward to seeing him. The issue? Neither of them took notice of the way one would watch the other when they weren’t looking, or the fact they were on each other’s mind more often than not.

So really, Chanyeol was growing closer to agreeing with Baekhyun and tying them both together until they talked it the fuck out.

He didn’t say that to Sehun, obviously, because right now Sehun just needed to… deal with whatever had happened.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chanyeol whispered, because it was routine and had been routine ever since they’d crammed themselves into a single bed as kids.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

Chanyeol snorted, thankful that Sehun had at least stopped sniffling, “Did he do something?”

It was Sehun’s turn to snort, “No. But even if he did, what are you and your gangly limbs gonna do?”

“Call Jongin, obviously.”

Sehun laughed and Chanyeol felt a little closer to success.

They spent an hour or two like this – and Chanyeol was unsure who needs it more, him or Sehun. Chanyeol wasn’t unfamiliar with the feeling of unease in his life, of uncertainty, it’d been this way after the ordeal with his parents. He’d lacked direction in life, no stable income and a family that hated him for something he couldn’t change.

As much as he disliked it, he preferred it this way. He preferred making his own decisions and living his life the way he could – it was better than waking up to do something he hated, to pretend to be someone he wasn’t around rich people he really didn’t care for.

His phone started to vibrate beneath the pillow and Sehun groaned at Baekhyun’s dumb ID image on Chanyeol’s screen as he fished it out.

“What?”

Chanyeol had to pull the phone away from his ear when Baekhyun yelled his reply.

_“ARE YOU WITH SEHUN? IS HE OKAY? DID HE CRY? IS HE STILL CRYING? DOES HE NEED ME TO BRING HIM WATER SO HE CAN CRY MORE-,”_

Sehun groaned again, “Jesus. Fucking. Christ.”

_“HI SEHUN~.”_

“I really think we should’ve just left him at the gas station that one time,” Sehun said to Chanyeol, rubbing a hand across his face.

“We did leave him at the gas station. Twice. He keeps coming back.”

“I told you we should’ve just changed the locks.”

“ _Too late,_ ” Baekhyun sang through the phone and Chanyeol was the one to groan as he heard their apartment door being kicked shut.

Within moments, Baekhyun had launched himself onto the bed, laying across both of them. His attention was on Sehun, who tried to bat away Baekhyun’s hands as the annoyance pouted and tried to stroke his hair.

“As much as I would prefer to lay in bed with two hot dudes all day, I have a better idea – Jongin invited us out and I think alcohol is a perfect rebound.”

“You’re acting like I’m going through a breakup,” Sehun replied, though he didn’t seem to have any opposition to going out.

“But you are,” Baekhyun corrected, “Did you or did you not break things off with Junmyeon?”?

“You _what?_ ” Chanyeol asked, sitting up and Baekhyun to squawk as he avoided falling to the floor.

“That’s different,” Sehun bit back, “We weren’t dating.”

“Alcohol sounds like a good idea,” Chanyeol decided, turning the conversation away from a growing-irritated Sehun.

With Baekhyun lingering around, getting ready for a night out was far more complicated than it should have been – worth it in the end, usually, and Chanyeol wouldn’t disagree that he looked good. As did Sehun. And Baekhyun. He wanted to question Sehun about Baekhyun’s earlier statement, but he’d been reluctant to talk about it to begin with – which meant Sehun would probably drink some and then Chanyeol wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

If Chanyeol trusted anyone with bar recommendations, it was Kim Jongin. Jongin had been a year below him when Chanyeol had still attended college, he majored in dance and Chanyeol hadn’t the slightest idea how they’d met. One day, his life was Jongin-free, the next, he was drinking at good clubs with good music and his life was not Jongin-free.

When he still attended law school and his life hadn’t had any favourable direction, he rather enjoyed drinking past the recommended limit and forgetting how he made it home. It hadn’t been healthy, but neither had anything else at law school.

Sehun was quick to drink and follow Jongin away to dance – but Baekhyun lingered, taking the seat next to Chanyeol. He never gave Baekhyun enough credit for his observational skills, or his friend skills, or his skills in being able to shit talk his way out of anything. Baekhyun had somehow fallen into the weird trio that they were now, and Chanyeol appreciated him.

“So,” Baekhyun started, swirling the pink pastel colours of whatever cocktail he was drinking.

“I know you know,” Chanyeol answered, glancing down at the strange colours of whatever the hell Baekhyun had ordered him.

“How do you know I know?” Baekhyun shot back, “And how do you know I know what you think I know?”

“And here I thought headaches were supposed to come after drinking, not before.”

“That’s offensive.”

“You’re not offended.”

“That’s true,” Baekhyun confirmed, turning to face Chanyeol on the stool, “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Mhm, is that why you’re moping?” His friend asked.

“I am not moping,” Chanyeol shot back, drinking far too much of his cocktail in one gulp, “And why are we drinking... pastel cocktails?”

“They’re pretty and I wanted to take Insta pictures,” Baekhyun replied, uncaring, “But really, I don’t think the issue is that bad.”

Chanyeol finished his drink.

“I just think you need to communicate like an adult,” Baekhyun informed, looking down the drinks menu for something else weirdly coloured, “Or maybe destroy your parents’ firm in a declaration of love, I don’t know. Is he into that?”

“Thanks for the help,” Chanyeol replied, drily.

“But really, you’ll be thanking me after tonight,” Baekhyun started as he ordered them something that tasted more alcohol than anything else, “I called Junmyeon.”

“And?”

“Well, Sehun ‘fessed up, spilled his homo heart all over the place – and then pussed out, retracting his statements and rushing from the place like a poorly executed teen drama,” Baekhyun explained, wincing as he took a sip of his drink and giving the entire thing to Chanyeol, “And then he texts ‘Myeon, telling him explicitly to never contact again before switching off his phone.”

“That’s…” Chanyeol trailed off, “Dramatic, but it’s Sehun. Did Junmyeon…?”

“Junmyeon did nothing, I think he’s still awestruck. Which is why I called him, telling him to pull his ass together and ‘fess back, because Sehun is really talkative when he’s drunk.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s, like, a friend betrayal.”

“Sehun will thank me tomorrow. Anyway, I dropped in a few words about you, y’know, to prod and see if I could find out anything interesting.”

“You mean look into my business,” Chanyeol corrected, “When you could just ask.”

“ _’Nothing happened’_ ,” Baekhyun poorly imitated Chanyeol’s words from earlier, “Anyway, Junmyeon said he hadn’t been able to get any words from Minseok all day, ‘cause he’s _moping_ too-,”

“Minseok doesn’t mope,” He interrupted, “He’s like, unnaturally calm. It’s scary. And kinda hot.”

“Noted,” Baekhyun returned, before making Chanyeol finish both his own and Baekhyun’s drink so he could order the next round.

Chanyeol wasn’t going to last much longer if Baekhyun kept on him like this.

“Don’t get mad at me,” Baekhyun started in a tone that meant he’d done something, “But, Junmyeon knows you, right? Like, -ish? I asked him to speak to Minseok.”

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol groaned, pushing away the empty glasses, “I love you, but I’d really prefer to fix this myself.”

“You can still fix it yourself!” Baekhyun amended, handing him something blue in a glass after taking a picture, “I just said you were all sad n’ stuff, so you were going out with your good friend Baekhyun to drown some sorrows.”

“I take back my earlier love statement.”

“Too late.”

Chanyeol was feeling the buzz of the alcohol too much to really care about Baekhyun’s meddling and instead helped Baekhyun fulfil whatever little experiment he was pulling with the weirdly flavoured cocktails – and when Baekhyun started mixing the cocktails with other, stronger additions of alcohol, Chanyeol knew he wasn’t waking up tomorrow without regret.

He lost track of Sehun half an hour prior, but he’d been with Jongin so Chanyeol wasn’t awfully concerned. Baekhyun’s cocktail alchemy had started to slur Chanyeol’s words and he deemed it time to go outside for a breather. Baekhyun shot him a mildly concerned look, but Chanyeol brushed it off with a ruffle of the younger’s hair.

There was a group of people smoking to one side, but Chanyeol avoided them in favour of actual fresh hair. He leaned back against the wall, the cold seeping through his shirt and making him shiver – they were probably getting a taxi later that night, so he wasn’t too concerned about the cold. When his mind started to make more sense and his words weren’t heavy on his tongue, Chanyeol pushed himself up to head back inside.

Which is the exact time his phone decided to start blaring loudly in his pocket.

It was Minseok, obviously.

Liquid courage? He hoped.

“Hello, you’ve reached Chanyeol,” Chanyeol answered, for no reason at all.

“ _Are you at home?_ ” Minseok asked, like their conversation earlier hadn’t happened.

“Yes,” Chanyeol lied, wincing when the group to the right gave out a round of cheers, “No.”

Minseok didn’t sound irritated, he sounded oddly neutral, “ _Where are you?_ ”

And it irked Chanyeol – he hadn’t done anything wrong, particularly, to deserve the cold treatment.

“Out,” Chanyeol answered, the cold breeze making him want to retreat inside.

The rowdy group to his right were growing in noise and Chanyeol winced at the raise of voices, wanting to avoid getting in the way friendly fist-brawls. He took a deep breath in, savouring the cool air in his lungs as he listened to the silence on the other side of the line grow. Good. Chanyeol was feeling bitter and he wanted Minseok to know.

“ _And where is ‘out’?_ ” Minseok finally replied, “ _I’m coming to pick you up._ ”

“Um,” Chanyeol said, bristling slightly, “Not that this isn’t weird, which it is – should I expect some 50 Shades of Grey shit from you?” There was an awkward pause, before Chanyeol continued, “Sorry, _Mr Kim,_ you don’t get to collect me tonight, I’m not yours to collect.”

Part of his brain was screaming _what are you doing_ at him – because of fucking course he wanted Minseok to come and pick him up, he was cold and Baekhyun was going to either shove weirder tasting cocktails into his system or try to break into Sehun’s mind, both of which Chanyeol would rather avoid. Especially when someone from the group to the right threw up.

Chanyeol grimaced and turned away, his grip tightening on his phone.

“Is that what you want?” Minseok asked, his tone carefully calm. Again.

“Obviously not,” Chanyeol muttered, feeling a little dumb for his outburst but continuing anyway, “You promised you wouldn’t get mad.”

“I’m not mad, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol knew he wasn’t – he wished he’d made the other promise not to get disappointed. He thought this probably felt worse.

“You’re disappointed.”

“I was,” Minseok replied, honestly, “I assumed the worst. Junmyeon-,”

“I don’t want to hear what Junmyeon said,” Chanyeol’s interruption was quiet, “I want to explain it myself.”

“Okay.”

“I could have explained it better,” He confessed. The cold didn’t feel as bad, anymore.

“Perhaps, but I’d rather not do this over the phone.”

Chanyeol let out an irritated sigh, the alcohol in his breath warming his tongue, “We wouldn’t have to do this over the phone if you hadn’t been such a hard-ass this morning.”

A particular hint that Park Chanyeol should stop drinking: the already-thin brain to mouth filter was non-existent.

“Chanyeol-,”

“If you’re not about to apologise you can keep it,” He interrupted, and maybe, _maybe,_ part of him liked not biting his tongue in reply to Minseok.

Minseok was silent for a moment and Chanyeol hung up.

When Chanyeol made his way back inside the bar, he found Baekhyun forcing his weird cocktails onto familiar faces that Chanyeol couldn’t match names to. Instead, Chanyeol opted to find Sehun – he figured he’d had enough alcohol to forget the fact that he couldn’t dance as he made his way over to Sehun.

Sehun grinned when he noticed Chanyeol, dragging him close and trying to make Chanyeol move his hips in ways hips were not supposed to move – Sehun was a good dancer, as was Jongin, why was he on the dancefloor again?

“How are things with you, Chanyeolie?”

Chanyeol snorted at the name, well aware Sehun had the lowest alcohol tolerance out of them.

“They’re good,” Chanyeol replied, blushing only slightly when Sehun decided to use him to dance against, “You are so lucky I’m not sober.”

Sehun laughed, “You fixed things with _Mr Kim_ then?”

“Was I that obvious?”

“You wrapped yourself up in blankets.”

“You make me sound pitiful.”

“A _baby,_ ” Sehun cooed.

Chanyeol couldn’t remember how much time he spent dancing with Sehun, or Jongin, or strangers, or the amount of trips he’d made to the bar and threatened Baekhyun to not come within three metres of him with that glowing yellow drink – he had his suspicions, when he found Baekhyun sat smirking, on his phone.

He liked to think about what would happen with Minseok if he just pissed him off – did the lawyer even get mad? Or did he prefer alternative… punishments. Chanyeol was willing to find out. What would even piss the older man off? Even after their encounter this morning, Minseok had just retreated to his neutral face, eyes sharp and knowing – would he see fire in place of irises?

Drunk. He was drunk.

Dancing with strangers was never a great idea – unless you were Sehun, and could actually lead in dancing. There was one particular guy, Chanyeol had danced with him for a song or two, but hadn’t accepted the drink the other man had bought for him – a blatant action to show he wasn’t interested. So when he took his exit for a bathroom break, or just a _break,_ he felt a flash of irritation burn under his skin where the other man had grabbed his wrist.

Chanyeol pulled his wrist from the grip, throwing a blatantly dirty look at the guy as he started for the bathroom – except, the dick didn’t know when to give up. A strong hand on Chanyeol’s chest had him pushed against the wall, the stranger’s face offensively close.

“Fancy a good time, sweetheart?” The words were alcohol laced.

“No, I’m good,” Chanyeol replied, pushing the man well away from him.

“C’mon, doll, I can-,”

“He said no.”

The stranger’s hand was no longer reaching for him and Chanyeol had already frozen at the tone of the familiar voice.

Minseok wasn’t looking at Chanyeol, his eyes confident and downright scary as he stared at the shock on the stranger’s face. Chanyeol could tell that Minseok’s grip was painful when the stranger hissed and snatched his arm back, walking away with muttered curses under his breath.

“What the fuck?” Is all Chanyeol managed.

“Baekhyun sent me videos on Snapchat.”

“You have Snapchat?” Chanyeol fell back against the wall in defeat, the world spinning at the corners of his vision, “You’re, like, _ancient._ ”

“We should leave,” Minseok replied, cocking an eyebrow at Chanyeol’s laugh.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed down there in your…whatever,” Chanyeol’s mind didn’t know where that was going, “I’m an adult, who makes adult decisions – I don’t need you to,” He then waved his hands in explanation, “I could’ve sorted this out on my _own._ ”

“I never said you couldn’t,” Minseok returned, his tone more amused than before.

Chanyeol groaned.

And reached forward, grasping the front of Minseok’s shirt as he brought their mouths together – he knew he was drunk and this was irrational, but Minseok was just _there_ and his lips were _there_ and his eyes were daring him. Drunk Chanyeol did not back down from dares.

Minseok pulled away first, laughing at Chanyeol’s noise of discontent.

“You’re drunk, let’s get you home.”

“Who are you, my _daddy?_ ” And really, Chanyeol lacked inhibition at this point.

The lawyer let himself be pulled back by Chanyeol, kissing the younger into the wall until Chanyeol’s lips were swollen and saliva pooled at the corners of his mouth. He made awkward eye contact with a passer-by and blushed, swallowing down his embarrassment. Alcohol was weird.

“So,” Chanyeol slurred as Minseok led him from through the bar, “How long were you – y’know, like, creeping? I mean watching.”

“Long enough to see you weren’t interested.”

Chanyeol must have looked like a child when he stopped, pulling Minseok back to him as he snapped, “I can handle myself, I don’t need a knight in… whatever fucking brand of suit this shit is, seriously Minseok can you just-,”

And then Chanyeol was kissing Minseok again, kissing him against the bar between people trying to order drinks and some distinct part of his brain was certain he heard Baekhyun’s annoying glee.

That’s all he remembered, really.  


* * *

  
  
He woke up in Minseok’s bed – Minseok’s otherwise empty bed. Beneath the acid feeling of his stomach and the throbbing of his head, Chanyeol felt a pang of something close to embarrassment. He’d kissed Minseok a lot; in the bar, in the parking lot, against Minseok’s car, in Minseok’s car. Minseok had driven them both back here, no driver, and Chanyeol distinctly remembered touching way too much of Minseok until the lawyer had practically growled at him to stop lest he pull the car over.

They hadn’t done anything past kissing, Chanyeol remembered. He’d been drunk and Minseok had made sure he got back in one piece, nothing further.

There was a glass of water on Minseok’s bedside table aside two painkillers, which Chanyeol swallowed before making his way into Minseok’s bathroom. At least he hadn’t thrown up. He should’ve thrown up on Baekhyun the fucking traitor – not only that, but Minseok used Snapchat? Chanyeol was certain he was confusing dreams with memories.

He felt better after showering and drinking more water, pulling on his favourite Minseok sweater to find the latter.

For once, Minseok was sat on the sofa facing the horizon view of the city and Chanyeol stopped for a moment, just appreciating the outline of the other man against the skylight. He swallowed around the thought that this was dangerous territory and dangerously domestic.

Slipping onto the other side of the sofa, Chanyeol pulled the sweater over his knees and rested his head on his kneecaps, watching Minseok file away his paper into a yellow file.

“How are you feeling?” Minseok asked, setting the file aside.

“Alive,” Chanyeol replied, “Thank you. For last night, I mean. All of it.”

“I didn’t do it to be thanked, Chanyeol,” Minseok responded, taking a sip from his coffee cup.

“I’m still thankful,” Chanyeol muttered, playing with the cuff of his sleeve, “We should probably talk.”

“We should,” Minseok confirmed, before turning to properly face Chanyeol, “But – you’re right, I was a hard-ass, I didn’t let you explain before I assumed, which was rather reckless of me. I want to apologise, if you’ll let me.”

“Apology accepted,” Chanyeol slid one of his legs out from beneath the sweater to prod Minseok with his foot, “So, I guess now is that ‘maybe next time’ we both mentioned, huh?”

“If you want it to be.”

Chanyeol hated how easy it was for Minseok’s words to fill him with warmth – he hated how his brain so easily responded to the way Minseok ran a hand over his leg without hesitation, how comfortable he felt like this.

“I was a law student, some prestige law school I was sent to the moment I was old enough,” Chanyeol started, shuffling a little closer to Minseok, “The family name, the family business, the family pride, y’know? I had my reserves about it, I’ve always wanted to study different things – but I didn’t mind doing this, for them; if that’s what they wanted.”

Minseok hummed at appropriate times, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into Chanyeol’s knee.

“Then second year happens, and my birthday happens – and I figure I’m tired of hiding myself from them, so I bring a date. He was a sweet guy, smart too; everything they would have wanted me to find in a partner, y’know, if he was a girl. They had too much pride in their status, said I brought shame and other bullshit.”

“Bullshit, indeed.”

Chanyeol sank into the cushions, sighing, “By the end of the night, they introducing me to a girl from the Yang firm – I wasn’t aware arranged marriages were still legal, but there I was, introducing myself to a girl they wanted me to marry for _status._ ”

Minseok exhaled, pulling Chanyeol’s legs over his lap so he could move him closer, “What did you do?”

“I told them I was leaving, so my father pulled every cent from any account I owned – left me with nothing, trapped me there with no option but to continue attending college. Kept my sexuality a secret and used it against me when he could.”

“I never had any personal dislike towards your parents before, but,” Minseok sighed, pulling Chanyeol closer to himself, “That’s despicable.”

“My mom was less… Well, she didn’t hate me, at least. But I couldn’t live like that, I couldn’t marry a stranger like a pawn for power – and I couldn’t go to the police, because as much as I resented what they were doing, their firm employs…hundreds of people.”

“But, what they did – it wasn’t right.”

“Sehun and I, we saved money where we could. His parents were not, y’know, millionaires, but they had money – and I’ll repay them for helping me, one day, if I can. I slipped out one night, we took cheap buses to places we didn’t even know existed and as scary as it was to be somewhere unknown at 3am, I felt more free than I had ever before. Sehun transferred colleges and I found an apartment I could afford with the jobs I had managed to find.”

There was a lull in the conversation wherein the words seemed to sink into the room – Chanyeol could feel Minseok watching him, he could feel the way it made his cheeks burn red until he wanted to hide his face completely. Before Chanyeol could bury his head in Minseok’s neck, the latter took a hold of his chin and tipped his head upwards. He leaned down and kissed Chanyeol, soft and filled with something Chanyeol couldn’t quite place – but it made that irritating warmth spread through his chest and he wanted to cap it, to stop it from developing into something deeper than it had already rooted.

“I’m happier like this,” Chanyeol said, fighting the blush even though it turned his ears red, “Doing what I want to do, I mean. It sucks I can’t study music at college, but, this is good.”

“I’m glad,” Minseok murmured, pressing his lips against Chanyeol’s head.

It wasn’t fair that Minseok was allowed to make him feel this way, unbothered. He needed to get a hold of himself.

“So, what’s your story?” Chanyeol prodded, shivering slightly when Minseok’s hand moved to his thigh, “You’re so young, and yet, Chen-Xi?”

“I’m older than I look,” Minseok answered, receiving a scoff from Chanyeol, “Graduated top of my class, joined a firm as fresh meat with a friend. Joined a firm we knew was rotting with corruption.”

“Your friend – Chen?”

Minseok hummed his confirmation, “We work well together, we didn’t spend long in the shitty bullpens and soon shared a rather spacious office – they assigned us to a Chinese branch, so we spent a lot of time flying back and forth. When the firm went under, we orphaned our branch and kept our clients. We had contacts – Jongdae, that’s Chen, his father CEO’s a pharmaceutical company. It was guaranteed success.”

“There’s success and then there’s… Chen-Xi,” Chanyeol commented.

“It wasn’t easy, or simple,” Minseok responded, “There are many snakes disguised in Armani. The employers of the old firm, the ones we could trust, were more than willing to bring themselves and their clients to Chen-Xi.”

Chanyeol wasn’t sure when Minseok had slid his hand up to Chanyeol’s underwear, but he gasped when the cool fingers slipped beneath.

“Am I staying for dinner?” Chanyeol asked, as innocently as possible, as Minseok palmed him through his underwear.

“I’d like that,” Minseok leaned down to lick into Chanyeol’s mouth.

The younger granted him access with ease, his breath stuttering as Minseok palmed him through his underwear, stroking him to hardness. And smirking.

Chanyeol did not like that smirk.

“Last night, in the car,” Minseok began and the younger knew this wasn’t ending well, “I was driving, you were not generous with your hands, Chanyeol.”

“I…”

“If you’ll excuse me, I have work to attend to,” Minseok smirked and Chanyeol groaned, falling back onto the sofa as Minseok stood, “No touching.”

His mouth fell open a little, “But…”

“Mhm, touch yourself and you will not come tonight.”

Throwing an arm over his eyes in an attempt to will his hardness away, he thought of all the gross things one might tend to avoid in such situations. His mind kept returning to Minseok, his long fingers and silver tongue – he needed to distract himself.

He watched Minseok disappear into his office, before pulling out his phone to check his friends were still alive.

 _[(tall) man child]_  
> brooooo bsekjyn saidf MR KM COLLECTE DYOU  
> bro dont yu hate it whe n caps lock STAYS CAPslOCK  
> if bake his right frri,.i.p ur ass tomreeow  
> I jusssssssssssssssss got home  
> i miss junmyeon

As he was reading through Sehun’s mess of texts, another came through and he snorted.  
  
> ignore that message if you want to live.  
> baekhyun’s alive, if you were wondering

Chanyeol sent back his usually ‘still alive’ messages before tossing his phone aside and stretching out on Minseok’s sofa. His head lolled to the side and he stared through the glass, his eyes following the movement of clouds for a few moments before he picked himself up to move closer. He stole some of the pieces of paper Minseok had left lying around and situated himself to sit in front of the windows.

When he wrote music, the rest of the world merged into a blur – it was still there, a dark smudge of a reminder that the earth was still spinning, but Chanyeol’s mind was elsewhere. He played one of his lyric-less demos from his phone, listening to the layers of his own music as he peered across the sky in thought. He’d already made a mess of scribbles and circled lines on the paper, tapping the pencil on his knee like a drum when he paused to re-read what he’d written down.

Sometimes his lyrics never made sense and he had to dig deep to pull any real meaning from them – Baekhyun called it shitposting. Chanyeol agreed.

He was unsure how long it had been, but the sun had moved across the sky a significant distance when he finally removed his headphones to stand. Stretching and yawning, Chanyeol was mildly surprised to find his hangover hadn’t made a comeback.

Chanyeol trudged into the kitchen, opening cupboards to peer inside until he made it to the fridge. As he moved to open one of the double doors, he stifled a jump when two arms wrapped around him from behind.

Minseok chuckled against Chanyeol’s shoulder, the action tickling his ear as he failed to suppress a shiver.

“Work got boring?” Chanyeol asked, making no move to open the fridge.

“No need to get stressed about work when I have all I need out here.”

“Are you planning to fuck me in your kitchen?” He asked, his heartbeat quickening slightly in thought.

“I might be,” Minseok murmured, pressing kisses along the back of Chanyeol’s neck.

“That’s-,” He had to bite his tongue when Minseok bit him, “That’s probably unhygienic.”

“I’ll make sure to question you about kitchen hygiene when I spread you out over the counter and fuck you so hard you’re begging to come.”

“Fuck.”

“I really ought to do something about that mouth,” Minseok said, his hands turning Chanyeol to face him.

Minseok gave him one last, hungry kiss before tying his tie around Chanyeol’s head, securing it in his mouth securely. Chanyeol gave a tester bite to the material in his mouth, moaning at the new feeling of the gag.

“Keep the sweater on,” Minseok mentioned as he lifted Chanyeol to sit on the worktop, “I want to fuck you wearing my clothes.”

Chanyeol groaned around the gag.

He slid Chanyeol’s underwear down his thighs, smirking as he realised Chanyeol was already half-hard and sensitive from being left hard earlier. It took almost all of Chanyeol’s will power to keep from thrusting up into Minseok’s fist when the elder began to stroke him – he bit down on the gag, saliva already starting to pool in his mouth.

Blushing a dark red when he realised he was drooling, Minseok didn’t hesitate to collect the saliva with his thumb before using it to circle Chanyeol’s entrance. Chanyeol couldn’t help but jolt forward, his legs looking for purchase on something other than empty air.

Minseok’s chuckle was deep and Chanyeol could only watch as he lubed his fingers slowly, pushing the first into Chanyeol at such a slow pace that the younger wanted to fuck Minseok’s hand himself. He tried to beg around the gag, but all that left his mouth was a muffled sob and Minseok began to pump his finger – it was an agonizingly slow pace and Chanyeol almost cried in relief when he added a second finger.

Except, Minseok seemed really adamant against quickening his pace.

Chanyeol breathed in harshly, his mind waiting for the moment Minseok’s curved fingers found the cluster of nerves they were looking for – and when he found what he was looking for, Minseok added a third finger and continued to stimulate his prostate until Chanyeol was a trembling mess. He desperately wanted to wrap his legs around Minseok’s waist, but he knew doing so would only result in a longer wait.

At four fingers and a pace so slow Chanyeol felt like he was dying, the younger was already sensitive and over-stimulated. He cried out every time Minseok made a sudden move, his eyes watering as he begged Minseok to ungag him.

“Not yet, Princess,” Minseok said in response to the muffles, “Pinch my arm if you want me to stop, okay?”

He waited for Chanyeol’s nod before continuing to pump his fingers in and out of Chanyeol.

Chanyeol was ready, Minseok knew he was ready yet he continued to use his fingers – and every time Chanyeol cried out particularly loudly, one step closer to coming, Minseok would slow down and bring him away from the edge again. His throat was going to be hoarse in the morning if he continued to whine like this.

The thought made Chanyeol clench around Minseok’s fingers and the older man smirked, removing his fingers and wiping them on the sweater.

When Minseok finally slipped out of his pants, casting them aside to clean up later, Chanyeol almost cried in relief.

He buried himself into Chanyeol in one thrust, allowing the other to wrap his legs around his waist to hold him in place. Light kisses along his jaw distracted Chanyeol as he adjusted to Minseok’s size, breathing deeply through his nose as his saliva continued to dampen the tie in his mouth.

Chanyeol’s cock remained hard against his stomach, a need for release heightened by the edging Minseok had dragged out. When he was finally ready for the other to start thrusting, he made a noise around his gag that pulled a smirk from Minseok.

“Did I hear a ‘please’ there, Kitten?”

His plea was far whinier this time, still muffled by the gag all the same – but Minseok was satisfied, he pulled out to the tip, before thrusting back in. Chanyeol cried out, trying to meet Minseok’s thrusts as the other began fucking into him. His heels were digging into Minseok’s back, pulling him back harder each time as Minseok fucked him on the countertop.

With each thrust, a noise left Chanyeol’s throat until he was clenching around Minseok – asking him for more, asking him to come, asking for it harder.

One of Minseok’s hands tangled in Chanyeol’s hair as he fucked into him faster, pulling Chanyeol’s head back to expose his neck – he found it difficult to breathe like this, his airways restricted to just his nose. The reduced oxygen intake had him clenching hard around Minseok in pleasure.

Minseok, taking advantage of Chanyeol’s bare neck, lowered his mouth to leave trails of his lips and nips of his teeth along the column of skin and Chanyeol was unsure how longer he could last – with his neck bared, Minseok’s fingers tugging his hair back and Minseok fucking into him relentlessly with his legs around Minseok’s waist.

It took him a few seconds to register Minseok untying the gag and he savoured breathing through his mouth as he kissed wherever he could reach of Minseok to muffle his moans.

“I wanna hear you,” Minseok gasped after a particularly hard thrust, “Let everyone hear how good I make you feel.”

And Chanyeol couldn’t have muffled his mouth if he tried, especially when Minseok wrapped a hand around his cock and pumped him in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Minseok- _please,_ fuck, I’m so-,” His buried his head in Minseok’s neck to whimper, “I’m so close.”

Minseok pressed his lips against Chanyeol’s ear to murmur, “Come for me, Park Chanyeol. You look so beautiful, so fucked out – all for me, hm?”

His build-up was finally pushed tumbling over the edge and he came with a cry, his come dirtying the sweater as he clenched hard around Minseok, who gasped and fucked him through his orgasm – his thrusts were growing less rhythmic as he fucked into Chanyeol in search of his own release, his hips snapping hard into Chanyeol and making him cry out consistently in over-stimulation.

“Minseok, _Minseok,_ please,” Chanyeol cried out, “Come in me. Fuck, Minseok, please-,”

“Chanyeol, so fucking perfect-,”

Minseok was tipped over the edge, his hands grasping Chanyeol’s shoulders tightly as he fucked into him again and again, coming hard.

Chanyeol’s hair and sweater were sticking to him with his sweat, he felt dirty but so content. He figured Minseok did, too, as he continued to pant against Chanyeol’s neck from where he’d slumped against him in an attempt to catch his breath.

Consider him an optimist, but Chanyeol was more than certain he could feel Minseok smiling against his skin.

Definitely an optimist.


	4. Chapter 4

This was not how Chanyeol had planned to spend his lazy late Sunday afternoon.

He’d spent the last hour sorting through a ridiculously large pile of apartment ads that Sehun, the fucking _delight,_ had deemed up to his ‘classy’ standards. When Chanyeol had made it to the edge of giving up, mere seconds from throwing all of the ads through their open window, Baekhyun had arrived like a god-send armed with take-out and Chanyeol had been forced to sit through another _hour._

“You’ve lived in two places your entire life, stop trying to give us real estate advice.”

“I’m just saying-,”

“Finish that sentence,” Sehun started, his voice carefully low, “And I will revoke your visitation permits, Byun.”

Chanyeol’s laugh was interrupted by a knock on their door and he cocked at an eyebrow at Sehun, who offered him nothing more than a shrug. Any of their friends called before turning up (save for Baekhyun, he never understood etiquette) and the only other person to knock would be Junmyeon – except, _well,_ that remained a raw subject.

“People still knock on doors,” Baekhyun said as Sehun pushed himself up to stand, “Whaaat.”

If Sehun’s back hadn’t been to them, Chanyeol suspected he would’ve seen the younger roll his eyes, except he just mumbled for the other to sit his ass down.

Baekhyun was hot on Sehun’s heels as they both made a sudden scramble to the door, somewhat akin to eager puppies curious to find what had made the knocking noise. The issue arose when Sehun threw the door open and the person beyond was blocked from Chanyeol’s line of sight, it took no more than 3 seconds for Sehun to freeze and for Baekhyun to make an immediate U-turn, throwing himself across Chanyeol’s lap. Baekhyun’s eyes were wide, his only tell, and Sehun was silently staring at the person beyond their doorway.

“Good afternoon, Sehun,” A voice Chanyeol hadn’t heard in years greeted, “Is Chanyeol home?”

“Kyungsoo,” Sehun responded, his tone cold.

Chanyeol had never been more thankful for Baekhyun, who’d anchored him to the sofa with his arms wrapped tightly around his body – he would’ve laughed at the other’s antiques, except he felt sick sidled alongside something that urged his legs to bolt in the other direction.

Which, considering they were five floors up, was not a bright idea.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Kyungsoo’s voice was as deep as Chanyeol remembered it, stirring a sickening nostalgia within his chest.

Sehun’s tone was bitter, “I don’t owe you, or them, shit.”

“Difficult as always, I see.”

“So, what?” Sehun’s laugh was humourless, “You’re their lapdog, now? What’d they give you, an actual fucking desk to work from?”

“I’m merely a messenger,” Kyungsoo replied, nonchalant to Sehun’s dig, “If you could give this to Chanyeol, I’d be ever so thankful.”

He watched as his friend accepted something across the threshold and slammed the door in their old acquaintance’s face. Sehun turned back to the duo on the sofa, his knuckles white where he gripped a cream-coloured envelope tight.

Chanyeol felt sick.

He’d expected they’d find him one day – he just hadn’t expected it would be any time soon. Wishful thinking.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sehun said and Chanyeol could hear his best friend’s resurfaced anger, “We’re moving anyway, right? Seriously, fuck them – all this time after their bullshit and they send Do fucking Kyungsoo, was that supposed to scare us?”

“He is kinda scary,” Baekhyun mumbled into Chanyeol’s neck, “All that _‘merely the messenger’_ bullshit.”

Sehun dropped himself aside the pair on the sofa, letting out a long breath before he asked, “You okay?”

“No.”

“Shut up, Baekhyun.”

“Been better,” Chanyeol replied, half certain Baekhyun was more worried than him. He took a deep breath, wanting to laugh at the way Baekhyun still clung to him, “But, like you said, we’re moving. It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s hand-written,” Sehun informed, still holding the envelope, “I don’t recall them ever being so personal.”

Baekhyun took the envelope from Sehun, earning a glare from the younger. Chanyeol let him, not trusting his own fingers not to shake. He could feel his heart-rate quicken as Baekhyun opened the envelope and removed a folded letter – also hand-written. It was most likely from his mother. He held his breath as his eyes scanned the page, certain words almost screaming at him from the page. Cliché expected words like ‘I’m sorry’ and…

“I’m sick,” Baekhyun read aloud, his voice quiet, “I don’t want your forgiveness, I just want to know that you’re doing well – but, you always did, I know I shouldn’t worry-,”

“Baek,” Sehun interrupted, “Stop.”

“Can you-,” Chanyeol swallowed the tremble in his voice, trying to think straight, “Can you get off me? Please.”

Baekhyun slid from his lap instantly, more hesitant than Chanyeol had ever seen him – the image was hardly comprehensible in his mind as he headed for his bedroom, closing the door behind him and sinking to the floor like he was 16 years old again. And he did feel 16 years old again, except he preferred this room to the walls he’d spent most of his life holed within.

He let himself breathe, let his eyes close as he tried to think rationally.

He knew this wasn’t his mom’s fault, but she hadn’t done anything to stop his father – hadn’t spoken out once when his father shunned him and took everything from him, yelled words at him that no teenager should have to listen to. Had arranged a fucking wedding with some girl he’d never even met before. Chanyeol hadn’t built a life for himself for it to be taken away by them all over again.

Except. It wasn’t like he didn’t care for them anymore; they were still... his parents. 

He missed his mom. And she was sick. And Chanyeol had left her behind when he’d left everything else behind – he didn’t regret leaving, he was never going to agree to an arranged marriage and his life was never going to look up. They cared more for their firm than they did for him and Chanyeol had accepted that.

Finding it within himself to look back down at the card, he realised she’d written a personal number at the bottom of the page in her perfect scrawl. Everything about them had always been so perfectly arranged and he didn’t miss it.

Before he could back out, he dialled the number.

As it rang, he found it difficult to breathe.

“ _Hello?_ ” Her voice caused him to huff out a laugh of defeat, allowing his head to roll back against his door.

“Hi, mom.”

“ _Chanyeol?_ ” There was a pause, “ _I didn’t expect you to call, I didn’t expect… you read my letter?_ ”

“Yeah, I read it,” Chanyeol confirmed, unable to raise his voice any higher than the quiet tone, “You’re sick.”

“ _I regret that it took this much for you to even agree to calling me,_ ” His mom began, but her voice was soft, “ _But, I couldn’t avoid the topic. Things are looking uncertain, as of yet._ ”

“Uncertain?” He asked, his voice small.

“ _I was taken to hospital seven months ago, we suspected it was something minor, but,_ ” She laughed and Chanyeol wanted to bury himself in his bed and never return, “ _I’m getting old, Chanyeol_.”

Chanyeol couldn’t think of words to reply.

“ _I just want-,_ ” She paused and Chanyeol realised she was coughing. His heart hurt.

“It’s okay,” He said, unsure what he was referring to.

“ _I just want to see you. Will you agree to a lunch with me?_ ”

“Will he be there?” Chanyeol asked, not needing to specify.

“ _He wants to see you, too, Chanyeol. You’re our son._ ”

Chanyeol had a thousand bitter retorts to that statement, but he knew it wasn’t the time. His hands were shaking, oxygen apparently refusing to enter his lungs despite his breathing. 

“One lunch,” Chanyeol answered, “I’m doing this for you.”

“ _That’s all I ask. Thank you, Chanyeol._ ” 

The conversation remained short, yet Chanyeol was unsure what he’d done afterwards. The hours blended together as he allowed himself to think, rest, an attempt not to stress over the things he’d learned to let go of.

Baekhyun found him, hours later, wrapped cosily within a familiar cocoon of blankets. The annoyance prodded at Chanyeol until he sighed, unable to swat him away and accepted the other’s attempts to climb beneath the covers. Baekhyun wrapped himself around Chanyeol from behind, stealing one of his headphones without guilt.

Sehun had already checked in on him (and Chanyeol had reminded the younger that he wasn’t, in fact, a child – and Sehun had smacked him upside the head). He’d left hot cocoa on the bedside table that Chanyeol had forgotten about; he appreciated the sentiment, though it failed to bring back his appetite. 

Even in silence Chanyeol could feel Baekhyun’s mind brim over with questions.

It took him thirty seconds to break, “Sehun said you agreed to lunch.”

Chanyeol didn’t want to think about it, “Yeah.”

“We could accompany you, you know,” Baekhyun tried, taking Chanyeol’s phone to skip to songs that weren’t sad, “Tag team dragging your dad. Also, dumbass, sad songs make you sad.” 

Snorting, Chanyeol could picture the scene well – Sehun and Baekhyun were the best people he knew for insults, they were fluent. To witness it was like witnessing art.

“I appreciate the thought, but, no.”

“Don’t get sad again,” Baekhyun blurted out, which in turn made Chanyeol sigh and turn to lay facing him on the bed, “I know I wasn’t there when Sehun was, and I wish I was – but, you looked kinda lost when you first got here, y’know? But you picked yourself up and you made this life and made hot friends like me and-,”

“Baek,” Chanyeol interrupted, because if he didn’t, the other wouldn’t have stopped, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Is this the part where you tell me I’m not your hottest friend?”

Chanyeol laughed, blowing Baekhyun’s hair away from his eyes, “I’m okay, really. Anxious as fuck and a little scared, but I’m okay. I have good, _hot_ friends, and my life is in a good place.”

“Is your dad gonna be there?” Baekhyun started with a thoughtful look, he continued after Chanyeol’s nod, “Take Minseok. Nothing says ‘fuck you’ like bringing their enemy as a date to your lunch together.”

“Byun Baekhyun,” Chanyeol responded, the positively awful idea sounded perfectly appealing, “You are a genius.”

Baekhyun replied with some egotistical retort that Chanyeol ignored as he exhaled back into the comfort of his bed.

Of course it was a bad idea (it was Baekhyun’s idea), but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. He was going to the lunch to see his mom, his father’s presence and opinion was irrelevant. It only evened out the table – literally, his father on one side and Minseok on the other. So perhaps Minseok would leave the most imperfect impression, Chanyeol couldn’t help but admit the smallest, tiniest fact that the air was always easier to breathe when Minseok was around.

There was also the possibility that Minseok wouldn’t want to go with him – and, why would he? The lunch was a set up for disaster, having his father sat across from Kim fucking Xiumin. 

Admittedly, Chanyeol was anticipating the next time he saw Minseok - the lawyer never left him waiting long, often calling late after work with a promise of making the younger's effort worth it. They'd developed a sort-of-maybe routine, in which Chanyeol really tried not to take their arrangement for granted and successfully managed to hold any feelings at bay.

With the occasional blip, of course - as expected when one woke up with Minseok curled around oneself from behind.

'At bay' merely meant Chanyeol had learned to keep any physical reaction under control, despite the racing of his heart and the pooling of childish butterflies in his stomach when Minseok did something as simple as smile at him.

It was fine, really.

In the meantime, the days to Chanyeol's lunch with his mom were counting down and Chanyeol was yet to even bring up the subject to Minseok - though he had grown familiar with Minseok's driver, a charismatic man by the name of Kim Heechul with too much brain to be just a driver.

"I'm not just a driver," Heechul huffed when Chanyeol mentioned it in passing. 

"You deliver our food on occasion," Chanyeol replied with fake-thought, "How could I forget?"

"Listen, brat, you're lucky you're likeable."

"Thanks, I think."

"I'm not just a driver," Heechul clarified, pausing as he came to a rest at a red light, "And I'm pretty sure picking up booty calls is something not listed in my contract."

Chanyeol didn't blush until he noticed the suggestive rise of Heechul's eyebrows in the mirror, "Where do I apply for a different driver?"

“Sorry, cupcake," The driver replied, not sorry in the slightest, "I’m the best of the best.”

“Do you ever stop talking?" 

“Hey! I pick you up and drop you off when Mr Kim needs a piece of ass, don't disrespect me. I’m older than you.”

“Yeah," It was Chanyeol's turn to tease, "How was world war two?”

“I’m not that old, you brat.”

“My bad - it's just hard to tell."

"I hope you choke on his dick, to be honest."

Chanyeol choked on air.

No more than half an hour later, Chanyeol was watching the elevator doors slide open to reveal Minseok's apartment. A smell that had Chanyeol ditching his coat on the sofa wafted through the air from the kitchen, and Chanyeol was welcomed to the beautiful sight of the lawyer stood with his back to him.

Minseok's sleeves were rolled up and his tie missing, he was chopping vegetables Chanyeol probably didn't know the name of and adding them to a frying pan.

Chanyeol convinced himself it was his dick taking control when he wrapped his arms around the lawyer from behind, resting his chin on Minseok's shoulder as he watched his hands slicing the vegetables. Minseok didn't bat him away, merely hummed as Chanyeol stole the elder's body heat.

"Miss me?" Minseok asked, a little smug as he put the mushrooms into a separate pan.

"You wish," Chanyeol retorted, forced to walk across the kitchen with his arms around Minseok as the lawyer retrieved something from the fridge.

The younger made a noise of protest as Minseok turned in his arms, a jar of something red in one hand and a knife in the other.

"This is a health hazard," Minseok started, cocking an eyebrow at Chanyeol, "You're a health hazard."

"I'm insulted."

"Mhm, kiss me. My hands are full."

Gladly, Chanyeol thought, leaning down to kiss Minseok's mouth. It was brief and Minseok broke away with a small smirk, intending to leave Chanyeol unsatisfied.

As Minseok placed out their food, Chanyeol retrieved glasses from an overhead cupboard and spent more time staring at alcohol labels than he'd like to admit. He finally opted for the scotch whiskey they'd shared the first night Chanyeol had been here.

Chanyeol hesitated around the best approach to invite Minseok to a lunch wherein he most likely despised the other two attendees.

"I know it's not my place to ask favours of you," Chanyeol started after they were a few bites into their meal.

"But you're going to, anyway," Minseok replied, amused.

"Okay," He readied himself with a sip of the scotch, "It's a little stupid."

Minseok raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure how, but my parents finally figured out where I lived - I mean, they probably paid someone to do some bordering unlawful digging, but," Chanyeol shrugged with one shoulder, trying to appear nonchalant, "My mom invited me to lunch."

"And you're going to go?"

Chanyeol nodded, "There are a few... complications. She wanted to see me. It's just an extreme downside that my father is also joining."

"You want me to accompany you," Minseok answered for him, picking up his own glass with that God-awful neutral facial expression.

"I know it's dumb. You were offended when you thought I agreed to this arrangement to spite them - I shouldn't have asked. I'll go with Sehun-."

"Chanyeol," The lawyer interrupted, seemingly unphased, "If you want me to accompany you, I will."

"Oh," Chanyeol closed his mouth to stop himself from rambling.

“I also have a favour to ask of you," Minseok continued after chewing, "There is a publicity charity event coming up, I'd much rather not sit through that alone."

"You want us both to die of boredom?"

"And other things," Minseok hummed, "I'd rather enjoy showing you off." 

Chanyeol swallowed, pink spreading to his ears; it wasn't like he was going to say no, there was a slight tilt to Minseok's lips that told Chanyeol the lawyer already had plans for that night. He almost shuddered from where he sat across the dinner table. Minseok smirked, knowingly.

“I want to buy you a tux. My tailor would most likely enjoy figuring out the best way to fit a tux along your legs.”

“Of course you have a personal tailor,” was all Chanyeol chose to acknowledge.

Minseok’s eyebrow quirked, “Is that a yes?”

“My own personal tux,” Chanyeol answered, though the thought of such an event was mildly nerve-inducing, “How could I refuse?”

“That’s sorted, then. I’ll take you to see Kibum tomorrow,” The lawyer informed, taking Chanyeol’s mostly-eaten plate to stack it atop his own, “When is the date of our lunch?”

“Um,” Chanyeol bit his lip, “Saturday?”

The lawyer stared at him, “Saturday as in the day after tomorrow?”

“Um,” He repeated, feelingly slightly sheepish, “Maybe.”

Minseok set his empty glass down as he continued to stare at Chanyeol, “And when did you agree to this lunch?”

“…Last week.”

“It took you this long to ask,” Minseok stated, no question involved.

In retrospect, Chanyeol probably should have brought the lunch up to Minseok the moment he’d opted to include the lawyer – Minseok was evidently busier than anyone Chanyeol knew and now he felt mildly stupid for not thinking ahead. He’d been avoiding it, perhaps not purposefully, but the words ‘dangerously domestic’ were becoming common place in his mind.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to waste your time,” He replied after a moment’s pause.

For the first time in Chanyeol’s memory, Minseok appeared slightly exasperated, “You are an idiot.”

“That is offensive and uncalled for,” Chanyeol wasn’t even slightly phased, he rather enjoyed watching Minseok fail to mask his neutral face.

“And yet I’m still accompanying you to this lunch.”

“And I will be eternally grateful,” Chanyeol responded, realising the implication behind his words only after Minseok’s lips twitched into a smirk.

“I assume lunch will be somewhere nice,” Minseok moved their plates to the kitchen as he spoke, “I want to buy a suit for this, too.”

“Um. Why?”

“A good impression,” The lawyer replied easily, leaning against one of the kitchen countertops, “You’re living wonderfully without them.”

A part of Chanyeol suspected the world would end if Minseok and Baekhyun were ever given time to conspire together.

One of the surprisingly positives of spending time at Minseok’s apartment was that they had an apparent productive effect on each other. Chanyeol was sat with his back against the windows with his favourite view as Minseok remained perched on the sofa, both surrounded with pages of work and silence.

So, maybe Chanyeol preferred this view; Minseok with his round glasses and pretty fingers tapping occasionally across the keys of his Mac. Maybe the sight of the lawyer so immersed in his own world that everything else appeared seemingly irrelevant aided the glide of Chanyeol’s pen across his papers as his guitar sat heavy in his lap. Minseok had said he didn’t mind the pieced together beginnings of Chanyeol’s work – had moved temporarily from his office to steal glances at Chanyeol when he thought the younger wasn’t paying attention.

Except, Chanyeol was paying attention – because he’d been doing the same, had been taking small breaks in his compositions to watch Minseok’s eyes glide over words Chanyeol probably wouldn’t understand.

“How is apartment hunting?”

Chanyeol blinked, mind focusing back into the room like a cliché camera lens, “Hardly hunting – we found a nice place up to Sehun Standards.”

Minseok huffed a tired laugh and Chanyeol was pretty fucking sure he just felt his heart melt into his ribs.

“How is Sehun?” The lawyer asked.

“You heard?”

“I’m rather observant,” Minseok answered, and then cracked a small smile, “But Junmyeon spills anything if you ask the right questions.”

“Sehun’s… okay, ish? I think,” Chanyeol set his guitar aside, collecting the sheet music sprawled in the floor space around him, “How’s Junmyeon?”

He missed Junmyeon a small amount – how could he not when the man was like a puppy?

“He’s okay. I suppose they’ll figure it out in their own ways.”

“I hope it’s soon,” Chanyeol muttered, setting the sheet music aside that wasn’t meant to be played by guitar, “Sehun has no one else to focus his attention on. I’m flattered but it’s overwhelming and I swear I’m gaining weight by the second. He doesn’t like to eat alone.”

Minseok laughed again – except Chanyeol was semi-serious. Their freezer had more ice cream than Chanyeol had even seen in a store freezer before. Baekhyun hadn’t been complaining.

“I thought you said you liked working with a view,” Minseok mentioned, watching as Chanyeol unfolded his legs.

“I prefer this view.” Chanyeol was blushing before he even said the words.

The lawyer hummed in reply, his eyes moving from Chanyeol to the floor to ceiling windows in thought. Chanyeol could pinpoint the moment the idea hit Minseok’s mind. Minseok’s eyes flitted back to Chanyeol’s and the younger swallowed.

And that’s how Chanyeol found himself with his face pressed against the glass, breath painting the window in steam as he struggled to keep quiet. Minseok was stretching him slowly, massaging his ass with one hand and pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm with the other. At least it was one-way glass.

“How’s the view, Princess?”

“Fuck,” Chanyeol replied oh-so literately, “It’s-god. It’s nice.”

“Mhm,” Minseok curled his fingers, pressing along Chanyeol’s walls until the younger practically bucked into the glass, “Not the answer I’m looking for.”

“It’s pretty,” Chanyeol all but choked out, “The stars, they’re- _shit,_ Minseok, please fuck me already.”

“Not until you answer my question, Kitten,” He was pressing against Chanyeol’s prostate again and Chanyeol’s legs threatened to buckle.

“I-,” His palm was sweaty against the window as he tried to focus, “I like it. It’s-fuck. It makes me feel calm.”

Minseok added a finger, Chanyeol breathed out a groan.

“Why does it make you feel calm?”

“Oh my god, Minseok,” Chanyeol panted, “Please-.”

Chanyeol was cut off when Minseok’s hand connected with the skin of his ass and Chanyeol yelled out, the window holding him up as the brief sting went straight to his dick. He clenched around Minseok’s fingers – a trembling mess.

“Fuck-,”

_Smack._

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Princess,” Minseok’s tone was low, his mouth murmuring into the shell of Chanyeol’s ear, “I gagged you the last time you were unable to control that pretty mouth. Do we need to do that again?”

Chanyeol shook his head.

“Words, princess.”

He groaned against the window, “No, Mr Kim.”

“Now, why is it calm?”

“Because it-,” _Fuck,_ Chanyeol groaned internally, “It’s like the world continues to spin, regardless-,” _Thrust,_ “-of whether I do, too.”

Chanyeol deserved an award for being so literate with three fingers in his ass.

Deeming the answer appropriate, Minseok slid his fingers from Chanyeol and spread his legs to lower his ass – he nudged the head of his cock into Chanyeol, allowing a second of breathing before sinking to the hilt. His hips were pressed against Chanyeol’s ass and Chanyeol keened, the window a mess where he panted hard against the cool glass.

Never had Chanyeol expected the slide of his cock against glass to feel so good.

Minseok’s hips fucked up into Chanyeol and the younger’s pleas turned into broken moans, the pace so quick he felt like he couldn’t breathe – and it probably shouldn’t have, but the sensation brought Chanyeol carefully close to the edge as he attempted to rock his hips back into Minseok.

“Enjoying the view now, Kitten?” Minseok moved one of his hands from Chanyeol’s hips to thread through his hair.

“God, _yes_.”

When Minseok gripped his hair, pulling his head back and exposing his neck to the air, his oxygen felt trapped in his throat. Minseok’s low groan sounded distinctly akin to a growl, the lawyer’s teeth pulling on his ear lobe with a sharp nip that almost had Chanyeol coming across the window.

“I bet you look so good like this, Princess,” Minseok murmured, his lips travelling to Chanyeol’s neck, “So needy, so on edge, so ready to come for me. God, imagine how beautiful you’d look if anyone could see you through this glass, your legs spread so fucking nicely for me.”

“Minseok,” Chanyeol all but sobbed, crying out louder as he felt Minseok mark a rather possessive spot upon his neck, “I’m- _god_ , I’m close.”

He almost cried in relief when Minseok’s hand wrapped around his cock, his fist pumping Chanyeol in time with every thrust – three, maybe four strokes later and the coil tightening Chanyeol’s gut snapped loose and his mouth dropped open in a silent moan, pleasure crashing into him as he clenched around Minseok and spilled across the window.

Minseok was murmuring praises into his ear as he fucked into him harder and Chanyeol cried out in over-sensitivity, Minseok’s hand still around his cock causing his hips to jerk without his control. With a groan muffled by Chanyeol’s skin, Minseok’s thrusts fell out of rhythm and he came, shuddering around Chanyeol with a grip so hard Chanyeol was sure his hip would bruise.

The lawyer’s forehead lowered against Chanyeol’s sweaty shoulder as he caught his breath, chest rising and falling rapidly.

A glance down showed Chanyeol the mess he’d made across the window, his chest burning red with a blush that had Minseok smirking.

“Go shower,” Minseok ordered quietly, pressing kiss to Chanyeol’s shoulder, “I’ll join you after I’ve cleaned this.”

Chanyeol was thankful – he’d really rather avoid Minseok’s cleaner finding out Minseok had fucked him against the living room window. And he’d loved it.

Minseok pulled him in for a slower, gentler kiss before pushing him towards the shower.

His chest felt a little tight.  


* * *

  
Chanyeol would have preferred his first meeting with Minseok’s tailor slash stylist to be less suggestive. The make-up he’d attempted to use that morning did a poor job of hiding Minseok’s marks along his lower neck – any other time, he wouldn’t have minded, but man, Kim Kibum did not care for discretion.

“Your legs are too long,” Kibum muttered, five minutes into taking the appropriate measurements.

“Um,” Chanyeol wasn’t sure how to reply and Minseok only watched in amusement, “Sorry.”

Kibum stood up, his pink hair falling across his forehead, “I see why he likes them.”

He felt his ears burn, looking away from Minseok to Kibum, “Likes what?”

“Your legs,” Kibum’s tone sounded bored already.

“You like my legs?” Chanyeol asked, an attempt at a joke.

“I might.” Minseok was serious and Chanyeol had to bite the inside of his lip to not shudder beneath the lawyer’s stare.

Kibum snorted, lifting one of Chanyeol’s arms up to measure, “This is a charity event, right? Something simple will look good – though I suspect you’ll look hot regardless.”

Minseok hummed in agreement and Chanyeol was finding it increasingly difficult to stand still.

“As for the angsty parental lunch we discussed, hmm,” The stylist circled him in thought, a finger on his chin, “Are you thinking classy, or something more ‘rebelled’?”

Chanyeol managed to stutter out an ‘um’ that had Kibum rolling his eyes, glancing across the room to Minseok.

“A matching blazer to the one I usually wear for publicity dinners,” Minseok replied, leaning against the doorway to the dressing room, “And perhaps a turtleneck to hide most of those.”

They both looked to Chanyeol for clarification, who nodded dumbly.

Kibum clapped his hands together, crossing the room to type out notes onto a tablet, “Nothing quite screams ‘I’m gay’ at homophobic parents than matching blazers and designer turtlenecks.”

“Nothing screams ‘I’m gay’ like bringing a fake not-boyfriend to their lunch,” Chanyeol muttered in response.

The stylist laughed, loud and genuine, as he placed his tablet aside. Somehow, that was how Chanyeol had won over the stylist; Kibum had instantly warmed up to him, throwing the odd teasing comment into their conversations as he glanced knowingly between his two clients.

“I doubt you’ll struggle with your fake not-boyfriend rendezvous,” Kibum commented offhandedly when Minseok left the room to take a phone call.

“What?” Chanyeol glanced up, a little unprepared.

“Oh, please. It’s not gonna be hard to ‘fake’ – I’m not an idiot, Park Chanyeol. You two were practically eye-fucking over my shoulder.”

“Um,” He said for the hundredth time that day, his blush deepening in colour when Minseok slid back into the room.

Kibum rolled his eye again, holding out two materials for Chanyeol to choose from. He returned a second later with his tape measure, muttering something about ‘dumb long legs’ as he took another measurement from Chanyeol’s thighs.

“I assume they’ll be done by tomorrow morning,” Minseok began, sliding his phone back into the inside pocket of his suit.

The stylist made a semi-hostile sounding noise, shooting his employer a glare, “You really do test my limits, Kim.”

“Only because I know you’re capable,” Minseok replied easily, “And my favourite tailor. Will they be done by tomorrow?”

“You do know how to flatter a man,” Kibum muttered, sounding anything but flattered, “Drop by in the morning, I’ll have lunch attire prepared. When is the charity event?”

“Next Friday.”

Kibum straightened up, handing Chanyeol back his jacket, “I want an invite.”

Chanyeol took his jacket silently, listening to the conversation bounce between the pair like an unparalleled tennis game.

“Already done,” Minseok held out a blank white envelope to the stylist, “Same table as Secretary Kim Jonghyun. I heard you’ve been trying to sweeten him up, as of late.”

“Purely business,” Kibum remarked, taking the envelope with a small smile, “I suspect I don’t have to tell you this, but do look after Chanyeol. I rather like him.”

“We’ll see ourselves out. Thank you, Kibum.”  


* * *

  
The morning brought nerves.

He’d spent another night at Minseok’s, though he’d fallen asleep before the lawyer had returned home from work – he’d been woken briefly by Minseok climbing into bed, hushing Chanyeol with complimentary murmurs and pulling the younger to tuck into his side. Yet somehow, by the time his alarm pulled him from sleep like cold water to the face, Minseok was already elsewhere.

Chanyeol pushed himself up, allowing his head to roll from shoulder to shoulder as he stretched – the actions did nothing to relax how tense he felt. It was a sickening feeling, permanent like bile in the back of his throat and ever so present with each beat of his heart. He was nervous about feeling nervous, he didn’t want to move; instead, he huffed, rubbing a hand over his face swollen with sleep.

He’d be meeting them today. For the first time in fucking years. Where he felt resigned longing to see his mom again, he felt thick dread in regards to his father – and although it shouldn’t be, although Chanyeol was wordlessly aware how dangerous it was, he was comforted by the thought of Minseok. Comforted by, comfortable with, soothed by… _Park Chanyeol_ , he thought, _what the fuck are you doing?_

“Ah,” The contented voice drew from the doorway, “Good morning, Kitten.”

The younger smiled, though the action was strained as his eyes fell to the clothes in Minseok’s hands, “You already picked them up?”

“I asked Heechul to,” Minseok answered, holding the clothes hangers to Chanyeol, “Breakfast?”

Chanyeol shook his head, his stomach already filled with apprehension as though he’d swallowed lead. He accepted the clothes, standing to hang them in Minseok’s wardrobe before he moved to the bathroom. Minseok watched him silently and though his face was familiarly blank, the crinkles of his eyes were soft. He merely leaned against the bathroom door as Chanyeol brushed his teeth and washed his face.

The younger raised an eyebrow at Minseok via the mirror.

“Am I distracting you?” Minseok asked, not remotely apologetic.

“When are you not distracting?” Chanyeol fired back, patting his face dry with a towel.

“I believe that’s my line,” The lawyer replied, blatantly eyeing Chanyeol’s bare legs, “You’ve taken a liking to my clothes, though.”

 _They smell like you_ , is what Chanyeol stopped himself from saying like a creep. Instead, he blushed, depositing his toothbrush in the holder aside Minseok’s. _Dangerously domestic_. It was apparent his mind was not allowing him the time to relax, the seconds practically draining alongside the toothpaste as he looked back to Minseok.

The lawyer looked at him in consideration for a moment, Chanyeol could only stare back as Minseok moved into the bathroom and lifted a hand to tilt Chanyeol’s face down. The kiss was not unlike the few before, the gentleness in Minseok’s actions becoming commonplace easier than Chanyeol would’ve liked – and yet, he was helpless against it, he neglected to hesitate once as Minseok kissed him and set fire to the butterflies lining his gut.

He kissed back as Minseok’s other hand moved to his neck, the warmth seemed to drain through him and took with it Chanyeol’s tension. Chanyeol sighed into the kiss, his body content and the dread in his chest simmering to resignation. Today would happen, regardless of whether he was prepared or not.

“I believe,” Minseok started after a moment of quiet breathing, his thumb following the length of Chanyeol’s lip to remove any excess saliva, “That you will be fine. I believe you will handle today perfectly, regardless of how difficult it may be. You’ve come so far on your own, built yourself a perfectly stable life from quite literally nothing. One lunch will not take any of that from you.”

“I had Sehun,” Chanyeol exhaled, glancing away from Minseok’s eyes despite their close distance, “And then I had Baekhyun and Sehun.”

“And now you have me,” Minseok hadn’t even hesitated, the words falling from his lips like it was easy.

Chanyeol glanced back to him in barely-concealed shock, his breath hitching at how sincere the lawyer sounded.

He probably meant it in a way different from how Chanyeol felt it, but that didn’t stop the blush from Chanyeol’s cheeks.

Minseok laughed, kissing him once more before withdrawing entirely, “Get dressed, I’ll make your gross hot cocoa.”

The nerves, as expected, merely increased with time. Their lunch was set for 11.30 in a restaurant Chanyeol briefly remembered – not quite roof-top, but had a sitting area outside that looked over the city when the weather was nice. Heechul had been quiet as he drove, somehow the car’s atmosphere reflecting the storm in Chanyeol’s chest.

If it was a storm, he supposed Minseok played the anchor to shoreline. He hated this mess. Hated that somehow he’d dragged Minseok into it, too.

It wasn’t until their elevator journey up that he blurted as much.

“You don’t have to do this,” Chanyeol was thankful they were the only two in the glamourous elevator, Minseok quirked his eyebrow instead of replying, “This is my mess and you shouldn’t have to-, um, sit through it? It’s probably going to be messy and embarrassing and _god_ I shouldn’t have even suggested it-.”

“Chanyeol,” Minseok interrupted, forcing the younger to look at him, “I offered to accompany you. You’re nervous, I understand that, but I’m aware of what I’m walking into.”

Chanyeol swallowed, glancing up to see they were at floor 27. Another 20 to go.

“I’m sorry.”

“Kitten, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Minseok murmured, brushing a thumb over Chanyeol’s cheek as he cupped his face, “Do you want me there?”

The younger hesitated, “Only if you want to be there.”

“Regardless of that, do you _want_ me to be there?”

14 floors to go.

“Yes,” Chanyeol replied in honesty, “It gives me the upper hand.”

“Then I’m happy to accompany you,” Minseok replied, his smile genuine, “I also assume you invited me with a slight intention of pissing your father off, hm?”

Chanyeol had the decency to appear sheepish, “But, that’s not the only reason!”

6 floors.

“Oh?”

“I enjoy your company,” Chanyeol admitted, though he turned away from the lawyer to face the doors as he continued, “I thought this would be easier with you there.”

“I see,” Minseok returned, squeezing Chanyeol’s hand once in reassurance.

_Ding._

Minseok led him through the elevator and to a desk that sparked familiarity within his mind. There was a woman at the desk, her smile polite as she informed Minseok that their lunch associates had already arrived – Chanyeol felt the blood drain from his face, hand reaching out to grasp Minseok’s forearm tightly to stop him from continuing forward.

“Chanyeol,” Minseok murmured, pulling Chanyeol’s hand gently from his arm, “Be nonchalant, even if it’s not genuine. It’ll be difficult, but trust me when I say this will be easier if you pretend you don’t care. It will look better; they’ll see how perfectly capable you are without them. That is what you want, is it not?”

Chanyeol nodded, though he still didn’t move.

“Then that is what you do,” Minseok continued, “Park Chanyeol, cocky musician with dimples cute enough to make a statement. You’re confident, don’t let that go now. Fake it if you must, believe me when I say I have experience with this.”

“Beyond those doors is a room full of snakes, I remember it,” He laughed, albeit bitterly, “Gossiping businessmen and celebrities on publicity dates with journalists.”

Minseok hummed in agreement, “Then we must be slippery, too.”

The lawyer left no time for argument, tilting his head in thanks to the man who offered to show them to their table. Chanyeol followed silently, his tongue heavy in his mouth as the anticipation gripped his stomach with sharpened claws. It felt a little difficult to breathe.

“Mr and Mrs Park,” Minseok greeted, except his voice was cold, professional. Xiumin.

His parents stood, looking the same, if not slightly aged. His father had the same stubborn set of lips, his gaze as hard as Chanyeol remembered it. His mom, on the hand, appeared frailer than he remembered – thinner, too, but her eyes were soft and hesitated only for a moment as she recognised Minseok.

He supposed the hardest part was when she swept him into a hug, murmuring that they had much to discuss. Chanyeol agreed, though regretted it had to be done in the presence of his father.

“Mr Kim,” Any distain his father may have had was masked by the surprise in his voice, though his tone was quieter when his eyes landed on his son, “Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol tipped his head in recognition, though chose not to address his father with words. Sehun was right, he owed the man naught.

They ordered their drinks in an awkward silence, his father motioning for the two younger to order their starters before doing the same for himself and his wife. Chanyeol swallowed into the silence, endlessly thankful when Minseok’s hand found its way to Chanyeol’s thigh beneath the cover of the table.

“How did you find me?” Chanyeol asked after another beat of uncomfortable silence.

“I asked Kyungsoo to look in to the situation a few months ago,” His father answered, “I applaud his abilities.”

Chanyeol almost winced – his mother had fallen ill a few months ago.

“It was legal, then,” Chanyeol commented, taking a sip of his drink.

“Of course it was legal,” His father snapped.

“As legal as forced marriages?” He shot back.

Minseok merely watched, taking a drink from his own glass as Chanyeol’s father visibly exhaled.

“We’re not here to argue,” His mom was the one to reply, “I understand what we did was wrong, and I’m not asking you to forgive me, Chanyeol. I just wanted to see you, again.”

Chanyeol noted the universal ‘I’, and not ‘we’.

“How are you?” He asked his mom, hating how clueless he felt.

“I’m okay,” She said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “But, as these things tend to be, it is only downhill from here.”

He opted to ignore the questioning rise of Minseok’s eyebrow – he’d neglected to inform the lawyer, somehow wanting to keep the situation as minimal as possible.

“How have you been?” His mother returned.

“Good,” Chanyeol replied with an air of honesty, “Happier.”

He didn’t find satisfaction in the way his mom flinched slightly. He hadn’t meant it bitingly, only as an honest statement.

“What are you doing, now?” His father asked, though gave no indication as to what he was referring to.

“Work, mostly,” Chanyeol returned, voice attempting civility, “I’m in the music industry.”

His father scoffed, “And you’re happy working for… what? Inconsistent pay cheques?”

“Yes,” He answered, taking heed of Minseok’s advice of nonchalance.

“You could always return to law school,” His father amended, and Chanyeol realised where this was going with a sigh, “You wouldn’t be the only one to take a year or two from education. You were smart enough, too.”

“And then, what? Work doing something I hate?”

“You’re our son,” His mom clarified, though she already looked tired of the conversation, “There will always be an executive seat for you, if you wished to take it.”

“Have you ever considered that I hate the industry because of the way you shoved it down my throat?”

“Have you ever considered your mother’s health may be deteriorating quicker due to the stress you imposed on us both?” His father asked, and his mom turned to glare at him before he’d even finished his sentence.

“Do not start this,” His mom started, clearly having heard it before.

“That’s not fair,” Chanyeol managed, though he was fighting to maintain his calm, “I hadn’t wanted to leave, at first, but what choice had I? You wanted me to marry some stranger for image.”

“Oh, please,” His father all but spat, “You’ve never liked hard work, you’re lazy – you used that marriage as an excuse.”

Minseok laughed, causing Chanyeol to deflate as his father’s anger only spiked.

They retorted back to silence as the waiter appeared with their food, refilling their glasses without prompting. His mom stuck to water and Chanyeol managed to give her a small, reassuring smile.

“Thank you, mom,” He started, not even glancing to his father, “But, I won’t be returning to law school.”

She smiled at him in understanding and that was enough for him.

“Are you… dating him?” His father questioned, glancing to Minseok for a small moment.

“Polite as ever,” Minseok responded, his replies few and far between, “Is that a problem?”

“Is this your childish way at getting back at us?” His father sneered, ignoring Minseok.

“I wasn’t even aware _who_ he was when-,”

But his father cut him off, irritated, “And to think we are the ones who need forgiving.”

“You are,” Minseok remarked, an aura of neutrality surrounding him.

“Perhaps your mother is wrong, we couldn’t put a child in an exec seat.”

“Somehow, I really don’t fucking care,” Chanyeol fumed, and Minseok tightened his grip on his thigh in warning, “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Even if he were to choose a route in law,” Minseok began, swirling the ice in his glass for a moment before meeting Chanyeol’s father’s eyes with a smile, “I would happily grant Chanyeol a place in my firm. Our annual revenues have always been higher.”

Chanyeol suspected his father saw red in that moment.

“How dare you.”

“How dare I what, Mr Park?” Minseok inquired, placing his glass down and holding the elder man’s glare, “I was invited to this lunch. I may not be a guest, but I’m not willing to sit here silently and listen to you insult the man I love.”

His father blanched. Chanyeol suspected he blanched too, his heartrate tripling as he fought to keep his gaze on the table. Fake dating Kim Minseok was a bad fucking idea, a really _really_ bad fucking idea. He swallowed, his anger dissipating a small amount as Minseok rubbed his thumb in smoothing circles on Chanyeol’s leg.

He was so, _so_ fucked.

The weeks in which they’d known each other was not enough to fall in love, Chanyeol knew that, but hearing that word on Minseok’s tongue directed at _him_ of all people… Chanyeol didn’t even want to indulge himself by thinking about it, he wanted to forget about it and move on, to ignore the tightening of his chest each and every time he glanced at the other man.

So, Chanyeol may have been remotely into his sugar daddy. Not just sexually.

His mom considered him with a curious look as they ate, she wasn’t the most accepting person considering his situation, but she wasn’t his father.

Chanyeol hadn’t had an appetite all day, but now he just... felt sick. And tired. He dropped a hand under the table to lace his fingers with Minseok’s, squeezing the lawyer’s hand with fingers that trembled. Despite his best efforts to feel otherwise, it was all too familiar – he almost felt like a child again, the situation was bullshit but now he didn’t have to put up with any of it.

“Maybe if you’d shown me the same love and effort you gave to your work,” Chanyeol said into the silence, “I would be less of a mess.”

His mom winced.

Minseok didn’t hesitate to reply, shooting Chanyeol a sharp look, “You are not a mess, Chanyeol.”

His father merely laughed bitterly, “Love? You think _love_ is what paid for your college tuition?”

“That is where you failed him,” Minseok stated, more stern than Chanyeol had ever heard him, “It’s as simple as that, yet you fail to see it. It has been a nice opportunity to meet you outside of the courtroom, Mrs Park, though I cannot say the same for your husband.”

Chanyeol saw the tell-tale signs that his father was ready to explode, but Minseok remained so calm that any reaction from his father would cost him his pride. God forbid that.

“You too, Mr Kim,” His mom returned, her smile small as she stood to hug Chanyeol, “I hope to see you again, soon.”

He nodded within his mom’s grip, “Call me if you… If you need anything.”

“I will. Thank you for coming, both of you.”

Minseok nodded, before pulling out Chanyeol’s chair and aiding him with his jacket.

Chanyeol managed to hold himself together until they were behind the security of the elevator doors, before sagging against Minseok uselessly. Minseok didn’t complain, wrapping an arm around his waist as Chanyeol felt more than just physically exhausted. It was like Minseok had known Chanyeol was mere seconds from snapping, his body still tense as they exited the grand building.

“You knew I needed out,” Chanyeol said as they climbed into the car, “Thank you, Minseok.”

“I told you, I’m observant,” Minseok responded, “Though you did grip my hand rather hard.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Minseok waved away his apology as Heechul started the engine, “Your father is insufferable.”

“I’m aware,” Chanyeol retorted, pushing a hand through his hair.

“Hey,” Minseok started, “You didn’t owe them anything up there – you didn’t even need to attend, but you did. Everything went fine.” 

“I know.”

He supposed it was inevitable that everything he’d managed to force away would find its way back to him in the form of brief memories. It was hard to forget, the things he’d felt, the way he’d been so willing at one point to roll over and hand over his life to a man who was disgusted by him.

They didn’t speak again until Minseok walked him to his door.

“Minseok, I just… Thank you,” Chanyeol started, gnawing on his bottom lip for a moment, “You didn’t have to stand up for me like that, we aren’t… Um. I’m thankful, I mean it.”

Minseok hummed, straightening Chanyeol’s collar, “I know. In the future, you shouldn’t hesitate to ask for something. You’re an idiot, but you’re not stupid.”

“Um. Thank you?”

“You handled yourself well, back there,” Minseok continued, swiping off dust from Chanyeol’s blazer that didn’t exist, “It takes a lot to do something like that.”

Chanyeol nodded and the lawyer’s hand returned to his face for the third time that day. He used his thumb to tug Chanyeol’s bottom lip out of the grip of his teeth, smiling in a way Chanyeol hadn’t the slightest idea how to interpret. Minseok didn’t kiss him, but he didn’t need to, not with the look that he gave the younger – and of course Chanyeol blushed, and Minseok chuckled, and Chanyeol felt his insides melt regardless.

He remained stood there for a few further moments, staring after Minseok with a pang of something akin to longing in his chest.

It had been an odd day.

“That was gay,” Baekhyun greeted when he finally let himself into the apartment.

“Get out of my house, Byun Baekhyun.”


	5. Chapter 5

Productivity came to Chanyeol in random spurs of spurts of energy, he could never plan it nor anticipate it – frequently, it was inconvenient, for time often melted together and minutes became hours and Chanyeol was once again unaware of the world around him. It was easier for him to lose himself in his work when there were things in his mind he would rather avoid, except, time was a very real, very unavoidable thing and Chanyeol certainly did not have moments to spare when he had a tux fitting with a rather demanding tailor in fifteen minutes… and he was still dressed in the clothes he had slept in.

In his defence, they’d moved apartments only the day prior and Chanyeol had found little time to work on his music – which was far more important now than before, considering he’d finally quit his low-paying job at the local theatre and opted to begin building his portfolio for commissions.

Chanyeol was happy, and if that happiness had roots trailing back to a certain lawyer… well, he wouldn’t deny that things were good.

His previous decision to neglect time landed him in Baekhyun’s passenger seat, brushing his teeth and hoping Kibum wouldn’t call him out for looking an utter mess. The only downside to bribing Baek to drive him was that Sehun also found it necessary to tag along – they both apparently had reason to gawk at his stylist.

“I can’t believe that  _you_ , Park Chanyeol, of all people, are playing arm candy for Kim fucking Minseok at a gala event,” Baekhyun complained, his fingers drumming along the steering wheel, “There’s gonna be people there worth more money than I will ever see in my life.”

“You own two sports cars and you’re complaining about money,” Sehun rolled his eyes from the backseat, “And anyway, I thought you had eyes on Jongin’s dance company’s exec.”

“Those were a  _gift_ ,” Baekhyun clarified, as though it made him seem any poorer, “And Jongin’s tutor isn’t back from China until tomorrow night. How am I supposed to woo a guy with a schedule like that?”

“A real tragedy,” Chanyeol replied, sinking back into his seat to glance at Sehun in the mirror, “What about ‘Myeon?”

Sehun winced and Chanyeol expected nothing more – the younger hadn’t been the happiest of grumps, as of late. The issue could have been resolved, in Chanyeol’s opinion, if Sehun wasn’t so emotionally stubborn and Junmyeon wasn’t such a gentleman, leaving Sehun to give him space. Sehun didn’t want space, Sehun wanted Junmyeon.

“That sucks,” Baekhyun sighed, and Sehun breathed out in agreement.

The brief lapse of silence within the car was cut off by the standard bell ringtone of Chanyeol’s phone, who winced as Kibum’s name flashed up on his screen.

“Sorry, I’m running la-,”

“ _Yah, Park Chanyeol!_ ” Chanyeol had to move the phone away from his year as Kibum’s raised voice blared through the speaker, “ _Do you think I have time to sit around and wait for your long-legged long-bean ass to show up on goddamn time? Do you even know how fuckin’ HIGH in demand I am, you little-,_ ” There was a pause, in which someone interrupted in the background, “ _Yes, the teal, no, don’t you_ dare _touch that orange, god fucking help me I will fire you right now, Lee Taemin._ ”

“So aggressive,” Chanyeol muttered, undoing his seatbelt as he opened the car door, “I’m here, I’m here.”

His instincts told him to hang up before Kibum had time to respond.

Sehun and Baekhyun trailed after him, peeking curiously at everything as Chanyeol took a deep breath and made his way over to where Kibum was holding an ugly yellow material and telling off a younger blonde as though he were a child.

“Um,” Chanyeol announced, nodding to himself when Kibum glared at him and pointed at the changing room for Chanyeol to get changed.

The tux-fitting was fine, as expected, Kibum’s skills somehow untouchable. The tux looked good, ( _“Of course it looks good, I’m not an idiot,_ ” Kibum had snapped and Sehun had snorted). In his opinion, the tux looked like every other tux he’d ever seen or worn, except it felt different – it felt like money, it fit perfectly like money and Chanyeol didn’t even want to know how much (or why) Minseok was paying for it. He really fucking looked like walking money and Baekhyun only whooped when Kibum made a comment about Chanyeol’s ‘long ass legs not being a total pain in the ass’.

Kibum was surprisingly fond of Baekhyun, the thought not settling well within Chanyeol’s mind (because honestly, they both lacked brain to mouth filters) as he dressed himself and checked his phone for the time. A single text message littered his lockscreen.

 _[Mr Kim (mushroom emoji, skull emoji)]_  
  > Did you like the tux? I heard from Kibum, but I’d much rather hear from you.  
  
Chanyeol hated the way his heart felt ten times lighter in response.

 

_[sent]_

_surprisingly, im not a tux-wearing expert. you should listen to kibum <_

_it’s almost like he’s paid to give fashion advice <_

_[received]_

_> Of course. Perhaps I was just curious to see if you’d try to impress me._

_[sent]_

_maybe you should let me try impress you some other way <_

_[received]_

_> Tonight._  
  
Chanyeol let out a low breath, glancing up to see Kibum showing Baekhyun something on his tablet. He narrowed his eyes, before looking back down to his phone.

 

_[sent]_

_will i need spare clothes? <_

_[received]_

_> No. I prefer seeing you in mine._  
  
  
He locked his phone, sliding it into his pocket before he joined the others. So, perhaps his mouth had gone dry, all because of a damn text message. If he hadn’t already felt in too deep, he was most certainly beginning to feel it now.

The trio opted to spend the rest of their morning shopping – it was Sehun’s opinion that they needed new furniture to complement their new apartment and Chanyeol wasn’t about to complain. It was different; he had money to spare, money to buy Baekhyun’s annoying puppy eyes whatever shit he’d decided he needed when they were window shopping. Sure, Baekhyun and Sehun had always had his back where money was concerned, but it felt good to finally buy them things too.

The best thing about it was the fact he didn’t feel remotely guilty about where the money had come from.

Three days after the preferably-forgotten lunch with his parents, he’d agreed to a distinctly more private lunch with his mom – as expected, it had been awkward, but it hadn’t been tense and Chanyeol appreciated that. He hadn’t wanted to lie, but it was expected that his mother would have questions after Minseok’s ‘ _the man I love_ ’ incident. The memory was slightly cringe-worthy, the look on his father’s face less so. He’d happily live through the moment ten times over just to watch the storm of expressions tear their way across his father’s face.

Years of resentment stemmed from a deep grave full of awful memories had that effect on a person.

Chanyeol was over it. Ish.

There was one question his mother had that she’d been most adamant about – a question that had caused her guilt over the years and though Chanyeol wasn’t sure he was able to forget the way she’d stood aside and done nothing for most of his life, he was appreciative.

The question was simple: are you happy?

Chanyeol could answer more honestly than he’d ever done before: Minseok made him happy.

His happiness wasn’t dependent on the lawyer, but it was undeniable that he felt like he could just breathe when the other was around. A part of him knew it was too late to go back, to turn a cold shoulder to the pooling of butterflies swimming through his stomach when Minseok gave him a smile he knew was reserved solely for him. He knew it was too late to swallow the thought that he’d much rather live in a world in which he got to wake up with Minseok’s arms curled around him, the lawyer’s fingers tracing a pattern across his bare hip.

But even so, there was a selfish part of Chanyeol screaming at him to take everything that was offered, because although it may not last forever, it was lasting for the moment. For a moment. And Chanyeol didn’t want to let it slip through his fingers. Not in the slightest.

  
It felt a little like walking across time-bombs.

 

Chanyeol had asked questions of his own. Asked about old friends, about her health… If it was terminal. It was. The lunch had been nice, despite the constant underlying heaviness of the atmosphere.

 

 

☽ ☾

 

 

He had known it was a bad idea the moment he’d stepped into the elevator, palms sweating as other lawyers filed into the space with him. Sure, the idea of bringing Minseok lunch had seemed like a good idea an hour ago when his stomach was demanding food, but the air was stifling. 

Minseok was on the top floor, his personal office on the same floor as the seniority of his firm. Chanyeol was already regretting the decision, especially when the elevator doors slid open to reveal the top floor and the silence flooded his ears.

Chanyeol remained the last one standing in the elevator, the other employees stepping out at the lower floors. The fact that Minseok was a partner of the firm was not helping him feel less intimidated.

The corridor in front of him was small, black carpets intimidatingly dark akin to the clean white walls. Beyond the corridor, however, was a collection of bullpens filled with the soft clatter of keyboards and the occasional shuffle of papers. Most people were working in separate rooms, cut off from Chanyeol via glass walls. So perhaps he felt a little intimidated, the discomfort only growing as he reached a desk manned by a singular secretary.

His hands tightened on the plastic bag containing Minseok's favourite take-out jajangmyeon when the secretary glanced up. If there was any issue, he'd just use the same lines he'd thrown around to security downstairs… _hi, I’m Park Chanyeol of Park International, I have a private meeting with Mr Kim on some rather pressing matters. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for delaying such an urgency, correct?_

He would have made a good lawyer.

“I'm here to see Mr Kim,” Chanyeol said to the secretary who merely quirked an eyebrow at him, “If you could notify him I’ve arrived, I'd be thankful.”

The amusement remained as the man picked up a phone, muttering into the receiver with a foreign accent as Chanyeol allowed his eyes to roam across the walls and the plaques that decorated them.

Chen-Xi. No motto, no bullshit inspiring quote to follow, just basic block letters and framed honours and achievements. Chanyeol appreciated the change from his parent’s firm – appreciated the modest minimalism.

“You’re free to go through,” The secretary announced, placing the phone back down and returning to the screen as though Chanyeol had automatically vanished.

Tapping his knuckles atop the clean cut wood of Minseok's office door, Chanyeol stared at the plaque titled Xiumin until a ‘come in' prompted him forward.

“I know you’re busy,” Chanyeol said before Minseok even had a chance to open his mouth, “But you’re human and unfortunately that means you also require regular sustenance, regardless of how-,”

Chanyeol paused, his eyes moving from Minseok to the taller man leaning against Minseok's desk. Kim Jongdae, Chen, the other half of Chen-Xi, smirked back.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Park Chanyeol,” Jongdae greeted, bowing slightly as he pushed himself to stand, “Don’t mind me, I was just leaving.”

Minseok rolled his eyes, but stared up at Chanyeol with a little smile regardless.

“Oh. I-did I interrupt something?” Chanyeol could feel his cheeks reddening, “I could… I'll wait outside?”

“Nonsense!” Jongdae returned brightly, clapping Chanyeol light on the shoulder as he walked past, “Not bad, Minnie, not bad.”

Chanyeol waited for the other to leave before grinning at Minseok, “Minnie?”

“You misheard,” Minseok replied, before raising an eyebrow as his eyes fell to the food, “Is that for me?”

All thoughts that Chanyeol had overstepped some invisible boundary by bringing lunch were swept away as they ate, Chanyeol’s legs folded beneath him on one of the sofas and his large sweater sleeves falling to his fingers every time he reached forward with his chopsticks. The repetition lasted for no more than thirty seconds before Minseok sighed, pushing himself up from his desk. He crossed the office sporting a deadpan expression that had Chanyeol almost squirming in his seat.

The lawyer held his hand out and Chanyeol grinned, placing his own in the elder’s for him to roll up the large sleeves.

“I’m starting to think you do these things to incite reaction,” Minseok said, though he hadn’t let go of the brunette’s wrist.

“Is it working?” Chanyeol asked in reply, looking away as the heat crept onto his face.

Minseok hummed, leaning forward and into Chanyeol’s space, “Look at me?”

Chanyeol felt his blush deepen as he looked back at the older man – at this proximity he could count the gold flecks in the other’s eyes, had already compared the colour to fire and written words on the mess of a notepad he kept a constant in his mind. And, of course, Minseok smirked, his thumb across Chanyeol’s wrist as his heart thudded in his ears and Chanyeol really fucking hoped the lawyer wouldn’t be able to feel the skip of his pulse.

“Tell me, Park Chanyeol, do I affect you half as much as you do me?”

Surprisingly, those were not the words Chanyeol had the slightest idea he’d be hearing. His mouth fell comically open as he stared up at the lawyer, his eyes wide as his mind attempted to process the question.  _Do I affect you_? Oh, maybe only every night since they’d met.

To answer the question, Chanyeol had no real words. He considered something for a moment, an impulse to which he thought fuck it and reached forward with the hand not in Minseok’s hold. He gripped the front of Minseok’s (rather expensive) dress shirt, pulling him forward and half onto himself as their lips met.

For the first time that Chanyeol could remember, Minseok let out a sound of surprise as he was pulled against the younger.

Relief flooded Chanyeol alongside the adrenaline of his impulse decision when he felt Minseok kiss him back, the hand from his wrist was now on his neck as the lawyer straddled his lap, tongue pushing into his mouth as his hands held the other man in place. Minseok kissed him raw, kissed the breath from his lungs and Chanyeol was beginning to remember how unfair it was for someone to hold this much power over him.

His heart was still racing when they pulled apart, Minseok’s breathing a little easier than his own but his lips just as swollen.

As if just remembering what he’d just done – in Minseok’s workplace, of all places – he loosened his grip on the lawyer, embarrassment flooding his chest less than regret.

“You can’t kiss me like that and then avoid looking at me, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol glanced back up at Minseok, his heartrate forgotten the moment he locked eyes with the man he’d already sold his heart to. Because that was exactly what he’d done, right? Sold his body, sold his heart; perhaps he was overthinking, making it deeper than it had to be, but what else could he do? Minseok occupied his mind for more of his days than Chanyeol would ever admit to.

He knew he needed to detach himself from everything, to finally fucking realise that whilst he thought the sun of Minseok, all he happened to be in return was stress relief in the form of a technical business arrangement. He partly hated himself for it, he’d been well aware what he’d signed up to and yet he’d let himself get dragged beneath the fine print anyway.

Fine print: sorry, no feelings allowed.

“You’re over-thinking,” Minseok whispered, his mouth at Chanyeol’s ear and Chanyeol jumped, hadn’t even noticed the man moved forward.

“I’m just thinking,” Chanyeol defended, frowning a little.

Minseok studied him for a moment, considering the younger before he leaned forward to place a kiss on the centre of Chanyeol’s furrowed eyebrows.

His heart might have soared.

He might have ignored it.

“Come home with me,” The lawyer decided, not moving from Chanyeol’s lap until he nodded.

The journey to Minseok’s apartment felt more like a blur than a memory, his mind wandering as his eyes followed buildings through the window of the car and the ever-present weight of Minseok’s hand on his thigh. The sun had already began to set and Chanyeol hadn’t even realised how long he’d lingered around the firm. He could feel Minseok watching him, as though his discreet glances would be able to read Chanyeol’s mind.

“Did something happen?” Minseok asked once they were behind the safety of the elevator doors.

Chanyeol glanced towards the other in surprise, “No? I’m fine.”

“There’s something on your mind,” Minseok answered more truthfully for him, “I’m willing to listen, you already know that.”

_I’ve somehow let myself feel things for you deeper than a contractual obligation._

“I know,” Chanyeol said, “You don’t have to worry.”

_And it makes me feel a little sick to my stomach when I think about the fact you could drop me at any moment._

“Be kinder to yourself, kitten.”

Before Chanyeol even had time to ask himself how it was fair, he was being pulled into an open hallway and pressed against a wall, Minseok’s mouth on his own making him forget his own thoughts. It felt a little like déjà vu, except this time there was more confidence behind his own movements and far more intent behind Minseok’s.

He expected the thigh between his legs, the stutter of his own breath and the overwhelming feeling of want – it didn’t make it any less intense, his own hips bucking upwards as Minseok’s lips began a trail down his neck. Minseok’s hands found their way beneath the hem of Chanyeol’s sweater, tracing up the soft of his stomach and coming to a rest on his chest.

It wasn’t until Chanyeol captured Minseok’s lips again that he felt Minseok’s nails drag down his chest, at the same time he pushed his hip against Chanyeol’s dick and he arched from the wall. He hadn’t expected the sting of the scratches to go straight to his dick but he could already feel himself straining hard in his pants.

“You’ve grown rather daring recently, kitten,” Minseok all but breathed at his ear and Chanyeol’s legs felt a little weaker, especially when the lawyers hand dipped into the waistband of his pants, “I let it slide the first time, but I’m thinking perhaps you need a reminder.”

Minseok didn’t give him a chance to respond, instead wrapping his hand around Chanyeol’s cock and turning Chanyeol’s answer into a broken moan.

“Or maybe it’s that you  _want_  me to remind you,” Minseok hummed as he started to stroke Chanyeol slowly, “Remind you how much you prefer to be hard and begging beneath me.”

Chanyeol tried to swallow his moan and Minseok’s smirk grew. The younger bit his lip instead of complaining when Minseok removed his hand, allowing the lawyer to rid him of his sweater as he was pushed down onto the sofa.

Minseok was in his lap again, the friction against his cock not enough as he tried to control his hips from bucking upwards. At the feeling of Minseok’s tongue against his nipple, he was unable to prevent his hips from grinding up against the other – he heard Minseok tut, pushing himself up to grind down a little harder on Chanyeol.

“I have a better idea,” Minseok muttered, before pulling Chanyeol on top of himself.

Chanyeol blinked down at the lawyer in confusion, his hands on the other’s shoulders keeping him balanced.

How could the man be laying beneath him yet hold so much control?

He leaned up to kiss Chanyeol, a little more breathless due to their change in positions yet still leading their movements.

“Can I remove-,”

“No,” Minseok answered for him, smirking against his skin as he left a trail down Chanyeol’s neck, “You are going to come in your pants – and use my thigh to do it.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol let out, embarrassment evident in his blush.

Minseok chuckled, before laying down properly to look up at the younger.

“What are you waiting for?”

And of course, Chanyeol was game – allowing Minseok’s leg to slip between his own as he began to grind against the other man, sought friction against the other man’s thigh as he watched, eyes intent on catching every expression, every sound that left Chanyeol's mouth.

Minseok pulled Chanyeol flat against him, nipping at his lip to gain entry to his mouth as his hands found purchase on Chanyeol’s ass. The embarrassment from rutting against Minseok’s thigh felt minor compared to the pleasure pooling in his groin and he groaned low into the kiss, the pace of his hips against Minseok’s quickening as he chased his own release.

“This is one of my favourite looks on you,” Minseok murmured between kissing beneath the younger’s jaw, “Face flushed, lips swollen and cock hard. All mine, princess.”

Chanyeol moaned in agreeance – he was already unsure how much longer he’d be able to last, especially with Minseok’s hands on his ass pulling him flush against the solid body beneath him, the pressure on his cock increasing as he rutted against the lawyer’s thigh. His breathing matched the pace of his hips as his head dipped down between his shoulders.

A finger on his chin tilted his head back up and a chaste kiss was placed on his tingling lips.

“Come for me, kitten, I know you want to.”

And Chanyeol did, hips stuttering against Minseok’s thigh as he came, dirtying the inside of his underwear with Minseok’s name on his lips. The other was still hard in his pants, though he made no effort to get himself off as he slipped off Chanyeol’s pants and wiped him down with the dirty clothing.

“What about you…?” Chanyeol trailed off as Minseok let out on airy chuckle.

A hand was offered to him, “Oh, we’re not done yet.”

Minseok led him to the bedroom, disappearing for a moment after telling Chanyeol to make himself comfortable. He returned with a few items Chanyeol didn’t have a chance to see before the other man climbed onto the bed with him.

“Do you remember your safe word?”

Chanyeol nodded.

“I need to hear you say it, kitten.”

“Mushroom,” He confirmed.

“Thank you,” Minseok cupped Chanyeol’s face, tilting his head upwards to kiss him softly, “If even for a second you dislike what’s happening, say so. I’m only good to continue if you are, okay?”

“Okay,” Chanyeol echoed, still feeling blissed out from his previous orgasm.

“I’m going to tie your hands together, is that okay?”

Chanyeol nodded again, watching carefully as Minseok began to wind a piece of black silk around his wrists. He then moved Chanyeol’s hands above his head, linking the material through the headboard.

“Still okay?”

“I’m not gonna break,” Chanyeol replied, feeling a little warm inside, “I have my safe word.”

The lawyer laughed quietly, giving the silk a test tug before sitting back in satisfaction.

“I never imagined how good you’d look like this, kitten,” Minseok said lowly, trailing one of his hands down to Chanyeol’s hip, “I wish you could see how beautiful you looked.”

As intended, Chanyeol blushed - and was unable to hide said blush with his hands, this time. The act of having his hands tied above his head and his leg spread made him feel barer, more exposed than he’d ever felt before. He half expected his chest to be red with the intensity of his blush.

He watched as Minseok warmed lube between his hands, wincing slightly as the first finger slid into him. Minseok remained at a slow pace, which Chanyeol was thankful for – he was still sensitive from having just came, his arousal at a minimum. It was when Minseok began kissing the inside of his thighs, the skin there soft and sensitive, that Chanyeol’s breath began to stutter. Minseok stretched him slowly to three fingers, Chanyeol’s cock slowly starting to harden again as Minseok left a purple mark on the inside of his thigh.

Minseok gave an experimental stroke over his prostate and Chanyeol’s hips jumped upwards, his heightened sensitivity pulling the hiss from his mouth. The lawyer seemed satisfied, placing a hand on Chanyeol’s hip to hold him down as he repeated the action. This time, Chanyeol cried out, back arching and whimpering when Minseok began to pump his cock properly.

Chanyeol felt a lot less stable this time around, a lot less able to hold himself back as Minseok pulled whimpers from him – Minseok seemed to sense that Chanyeol couldn’t last as long this time and Chanyeol’s hips jerked a little when something was rolled onto his length. A cock ring.

He groaned, head dropping back to the mattress.

“Fuck.”

“Say that again,” Minseok’s voice was flat, but the warning heated Chanyeol’s face.

The younger opted to bite his tongue.

Heat on the head of his cock was enough to surprise a groan from him, but soon Minseok moved to fit more of Chanyeol into his mouth. His hands were keeping Chanyeol’s hips against the bed, even as he attempted to fuck upwards and into the heat that pulled whimpers from his own mouth.

“Minseok, p- _oh._ Please.”

Minseok ignored him – Chanyeol cursed again when his cock hit the back of Minseok’s throat. He wanted release, the pressure in his balls building but nothing felt enough, not even the three fingers still stretching him open. The fucking cock ring.

But then Minseok’s fingertips brushed his prostate again and Chanyeol all but yelled, arms straining against the ties so hard his shoulders were beginning to ache. Minseok swallowed him down once more and Chanyeol cried out, he wanted nothing more than to come but he fucking  _couldn’t_.

“ _Minseok_ ,” Chanyeol cried out, another broken plea leaving his lips when a fourth finger was added.

It was when Minseok moved down to mouth at his balls that part of Chanyeol felt ready to cry. The stretch burned and Minseok’s mouth was causing his words to leave his mouth in a mess – when fingers thrust into him at the right angle and Minseok thrust his head down to deep throat him once more, Chanyeol’s hips thrust upwards and into the air as he came with a cry that had him shuddering through it. The pleasure was almost painful, his blood hot and his heart loud in his ears as he whimpered loudly.

White hot pleasure coursed through his body as he shook with adrenaline.

“You came dry,” Minseok realised, sounding impressed.

His cock was still hard. He wanted to cry.

“Take it off,” Chanyeol choked out, adding, “Please.”

“Not yet, kitten.”

Chanyeol hated the croak of his voice as he whined, “Minseok.”

Minseok looked up at him, running a hand through Chanyeol’s hair softly, “Do you want to use your safe word?”

The fingers running through his hair were calming and the way Minseok was looking down at him made it hard to differentiate between his heart and his dick.

He shook his head, “No.”

“Are you sure?” Minseok questioned, massaging his scalp lightly, “It’s okay if you do. We can stop.”

Chanyeol’s hips were still shaking from the stimulation, his cock still hard – he wanted to see this through to the end, however stupid it sounded.

“I’m okay,” He finalised.

“Okay,” Minseok replied, kissing him gently to give him a few moments rest.

It wasn’t until Minseok was between his legs, cock pushing into him that Chanyeol made any noise. The sensitivity was too much; he was jittery and had to wrap his legs around Minseok’s waist to ground himself. Minseok allowed him to, murmuring praises into Chanyeol’s ear as he gave him time to adjust.

He was littering Chanyeol’s face with kisses when the younger gave him the okay to move.

Only a few moments passed when Chanyeol was unsure that anything leaving his mouth made sense – even more so when Minseok picked up the pace, whispering how good Chanyeol was; how good he wanted to make Chanyeol feel.

“Hold on just a little longer, kitten,” Minseok murmured, groaning as he moved to thrust in deeper.

Chanyeol was unsure he could hold on a little longer.

He was also unsure when the tears left his eyes, but suddenly his cheeks were wet and Minseok was hushing him with sweet words.

“Chanyeol, god, you’re so beautiful, you’re okay,” He whispered, kissing Chanyeol’s cheeks despite the tears, “You’re almost there.”

It was overwhelming – the pleasure, the need for release, Minseok hovering above him and looking down at him like he held the world, the burst of white stars in his vision when Minseok freed him of the cock ring and kissed him, swallowing his moans and tears as he bucked up and came weakly between them. Minseok finished not long after, though he continued to praise Chanyeol and kissed him softly when he pulled out.

Minseok untied his wrists before pulling the younger towards himself to hold.

“You did so well, I’m so proud of you,” He whispered as he rubbed Chanyeol’s arms softly.

Chanyeol couldn’t bring himself to reply, instead let himself submerge within the heat of Minseok’s body as the other continued to hold him. He whined when Minseok moved to clean him up, his fist weakly grabbing the other’s wrist. Minseok didn’t move, instead moved them into a more comfortable position on the bed as Chanyeol’s body finally let him doze on the line of unconsciousness.

His previous decision to avoid sleep in favour of building his music portfolio, alongside the exertion from their activities, and perhaps the fact that the world was easier to ignore when Minseok’s fingers were carding through his hair, meant Chanyeol fell into an easy slumber. 

 

 

☽ ☾

 

 

Chanyeol supposed it was lucky last night happened the way it did – today was the day of the charity event and Chanyeol’s nerves would probably have kept him up all night regardless. He was aware that there would most likely be people from his father’s firm at the event; people he’d learned to forget and friends he’d left behind. There was also the fact it was obvious people would be curious about him, he was turning up on the arm of one of the country’s youngest, richest mysteries – and people loved to gossip.

He didn’t care for people’s gossip; but he was worried Minseok might. Chanyeol didn’t want to be responsible for damaging the older man’s reputation.

Watching Minseok make breakfast felt far less worrying than the last time.

“You know people will gossip, tonight,” Chanyeol said as he sat himself down, Minseok’s shirt hanging loosely from his body after his shower.

“Of course,” Minseok answered, glancing over his shoulder at the younger with a smile, “And why wouldn’t they? You’re beautiful.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Chanyeol mumbled, playing with the hem of the sleeves in slight embarrassment.

Minseok hummed thoughtfully, splitting their breakfast between two plates, “People will talk, because they have nothing better to do. Will it bother you?”

Chanyeol rose to prepare tea for them both, a habit he’d developed over time in the large kitchen, “It’s never bothered me, I grew up with people talking about every step I took. I was talking about you.”

“Me?” Minseok sounded surprised for the second time in twenty-four hours, “There are a million other things I could care about than everyone knowing you are mine. I’m looking rather forward to showing you off.”

Biting his lip, Chanyeol focused on preparing the fruit tea Minseok preferred – no sugar compared to the three cubes he added to his own. It was true, he was Minseok’s, but not in the sense he so desperately wished he was. Returning to the table with their tea, he tried to avoid the curious look in Minseok’s eye as he took the seat opposite.

“Have you considered going back to school?”

Chanyeol looked up, frowning a little, “No. I dropped out because I couldn’t afford to attend after cutting my parents off.”

“There are many prestigious music and arts colleges in this city,” Minseok added, taking a sip of the tea, “You’re still young, Chanyeol.”

“I know, Baekhyun is an arts student,” He responded, feeling a little put on the spot, “Scholarships are hard to come by when your father owns one of the highest earning firms.”

“Then I’ll pay for it.”

“No,” Chanyeol didn’t even have to think about it, “That’s the kind of money I can’t pay back.”

Minseok was watching him over the rim of the teacup, “I don’t care about money, if that’s the only thing stopping you then consider it no longer a problem.”

“No,” He repeated, feeling his heart swell without reason.

“The offer remains, kitten,” Minseok returned, turning his attention to the food.

Being said lawyer’s date for a renowned annual charity event came with its downsides. For example, being prodded in the face by a narrow-eyed Kim Kibum who insisted Chanyeol would look far better with a touch of makeup. Chanyeol didn’t care about the makeup, Baekhyun was known to line his eyes in kohl before dragging him to whichever club his friend had eyes on.

However, Kibum was far more precise and far fussier about what he did to Chanyeol’s face.

Kibum had arrived already looking prepared for the event, his hair styled out his face and his own eyeliner highlighting how sharp his eyes could look.

He hadn’t anticipated how good Minseok could look – he’d already assumed he’d seen it all, but, no; not when Minseok’s hair had been pushed from his face and his suit as clean cut as his facial features. Minseok was easily an intimidating man, the hard set of his jaw and the width of his shoulders – that constant fire in his eyes, the dip of his waist. Chanyeol had never felt luckier. He watched as Minseok fiddled with his cufflinks – he didn’t even try to hide his blatant stare and Minseok smirked in victory.

Before they left, Minseok handed him a black velvet box. It was growing more and more evident Minseok enjoyed the colour black.

“What is this?” Chanyeol asked, peering at it curiously. A bracelet, perhaps? Cufflinks?

“Perhaps you’d find out if you opened it.”

Opening the box revealed a small choker, seemingly minimalistic in design. Chanyeol liked it – even more so when he realised the initials KM were sown in red on the inside of the choker. It was a possessive move, there was no question about it; the thought made Chanyeol’s skin feel hotter, he’d be wearing it around so many people and no one would have the slightest idea about himself and Minseok.

Minseok slid the choker from the box and Chanyeol turned, allowing the older man to fasten the soft material around his neck.

“I asked Kibum to make it,” Minseok admitted, before placing a kiss along the side of Chanyeol’s neck, “I wanted it to match your tux.”

“Thank you,” Chanyeol responded, shivering at the ghost of Minseok’s breath on his neck, “I like it. A lot.”

“I thought you might,” Minseok confirmed, before slipping his hand through Chanyeol’s and leading him out.

Even Heechul was dressed more formal than usual for the occasion, the driver attiring black gloves as he opened the door for them both.

Chanyeol’s nerves remained, but the closer they grew the less small he was beginning to feel. Minseok’s presence was assurance enough, the lawyer wanted to show him off and so Chanyeol had no plans to disappoint.

Although Heechul opened the door for his boss, Minseok opened the door for Chanyeol and offered a hand to help him up. He could hear the familiar flash of a camera and breathed in once, allowing Minseok to pull him up and link their fingers properly. The lawyer led the way, bowing his head in thanks to the doorman as he pulled Chanyeol into the foyer. Minseok didn’t even need proof of ID when they reached security and Chanyeol was starting to suspect he underestimated how well known Minseok really was.

“Minnie!” A voice announced the moment they passed security and Chanyeol recognised Jongdae pulling over his date, “Minseok, I do believe you know each other. Chanyeol, this is-,”

“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol answered for the other.

“Oh,” Jongdae let out in surprise, “You’ve met?”

“Chanyeol’s father’s company,” Minseok clarified for his friend, giving Chanyeol’s hand a small squeeze.

“ _Oh_ ,” Jongdae repeated, glancing from Kyungsoo to Chanyeol.

“Good evening, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo greeted, his dark eyes glancing from Minseok to the taller, before he looked back to Jongdae, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to fetch us drinks.”

Jongdae nodded and smiled – Chanyeol stared.

“Are you and he…” Chanyeol trailed off.

“Dating is probably too strong a word,” Jongdae informed, watching Kyungsoo for a moment before he continued, “It’s hot when he wipes the court floor with me. A real savage.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help the surprised laugh, “So, you’re a sadist.”

Jongdae grinned, before he motioned to Minseok, “You ought to see your man in court, it’s like watching him conduct art.”

Minseok rolled his eyes, “Stop your date from arguing with Luhan, you know that journalist is on our payroll.”

“Ah, true, Luhan always does aim to get a reaction,” Jongdae responded, “I’ll catch up with you both later.”

Chanyeol waited for the other man to trail after his date before he said, “I want to see you in court, now.”

“No,” Minseok replied, lifting two champagne flutes from a passing waiter.

“What if I sued you,” Chanyeol teased, accepting the flute, “Then you would have to, right?”

“Are you going to sue me?”

“Maybe.”

Minseok rolled his eyes again.

They spent the first quarter of an hour mingling, which usually consisted of Minseok introducing Chanyeol and Chanyeol feigning interest on work-related discussion – at least he hadn’t forgotten his days at law school, the terminology came in useful when he needed to impress a stranger’s automatic disapproval of him.

After the host for the evening finished his introductory lines, the small group of classical musicians began their work for the night and Chanyeol found himself watching curiously. He’d been taught to play the violin from a young age – his mother could play, and he’d always had an interest in music so he’d been enthusiastic from the start. College would be nice to return to, but Minseok paying for it would make him feel like a burden. Perhaps he could attempt to fund most of it with the money Minseok was already giving him.

His eyes had somehow found their way to lawyer in question, watching him converse with faces that rang with familiarity in Chanyeol’s mind. Minseok was a good talker, charismatic with an air of confidence that demanded attention. Merely watching him made Chanyeol’s chest ache with unjustified emotion; he swallowed it down with champagne, ignoring it for the nth time.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a familiar face and Chanyeol’s mouth broke into a grin as he was hugged by a face he’d missed.

“Junmyeon,” Chanyeol greeted when they pulled apart, “I’ve missed seeing you around.”

Junmyeon laughed, his bright smile causing his eyes to crease, “I’ve missed being around, ‘Yeollie.”

Chanyeol ruffled his nose at the nickname Baekhyun had created for him, “Yet you still spend too much time with Baekhyun.”

“Nonsense, he merely calls me every other night with a few choice words about a certain someone.”

“Ah,” Chanyeol let out in a sigh, “I didn’t want to interfere.”

Junmyeon’s smile was smaller, “I’m grateful.”

“But,” Chanyeol started and it was Junmyeon’s turn to sigh, “Sehun is stubborn and you’re too nice. You should talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to speak to me,” Junmyeon replied, quietly.

“Well, that’s bullshit,” He answered, hand reaching inside his suit jacket pocket, “All Sehun has done is mope and run from his feelings.”

“I’m giving him space,” The older man countered.

“You are too nice for Sehun,” Chanyeol muttered, before finally pulling out the key he was looking for, “Sehun’s probably gonna kill me for this, but,” He placed the key in Junmyeon’s hand,  “I won’t be home tonight. He’s all yours.”

Junmyeon appeared conflicted, opening his hand to stare at the key, “I shouldn’t.”

“Are you willing to let him go?” Chanyeol raised an eyebrow at his friend.

“I don’t want to, but-,”

“That’s good enough for me,” He interrupted, grinning at the older man, “You can tell him I sent you, tell him I forced you, I don’t care.”

Junmyeon let out a breath, before nodding, “Thank you, Chanyeol. I appreciate it.”

“Please restock our freezer with ice cream,” Chanyeol decided, placing his empty flute on a passing tray, “Or take him proper food.”

“Thank you for caring for him,” Junmyeon gave Chanyeol a small smile, before glancing in the direction Chanyeol had been staring before their conversation, “And you, too. It’s not healthy to run from what you feel.”

Chanyeol laughed, a little bitterly, because, “What choice have I?”

He followed Junmyeon’s eyes over to where Minseok was speaking to a small group – as if sensing another pair of eyes, Minseok glanced up and gave Chanyeol a small, gentle smile.

Looking away, Chanyeol sighed.

“You’ll figure it out,” Junmyeon then nodded, clasping Chanyeol’s shoulder lightly, “I have people to greet, but, thank you.”

Despite preferring to avoid the faces he knew, Chanyeol found himself in conversations with people he’d never expected to see again – it was good to know that people were going the places they aspired to go, and most of them were still in school invited merely due to their law internships. He avoided the questions about himself, admitting only once he’d dropped out of law to pursue things he preferred. It was a little intimidating to meet the people that would graduate without him.

“Park Chanyeol,” A voice began and Chanyeol felt the blood in his chest turn cold.

He froze completely, turning to look up at one of the few people that had always been taller than him.

“Yifan,” Chanyeol replied, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he felt.

“I had not expected you, of all people, to attend tonight,” Yifan began, glancing around them, “Are you here with a college friend?”

“No,” Chanyeol made himself answer, feeling his palms start to sweat, “I was brought as a date.”

Year two of college, Wu Yifan, Chanyeol’s birthday date. The day that marked the downfall of his relationship with his parents. His first boyfriend.

“A date?” The taller man seemed surprised, “You’re seeing someone?”

“Yes,” An authoritative hand slid around his waist and Chanyeol looked up in surprise, “He is.”

“Kim,” Yifan said in greeting, his tone displeased as he looked back to Chanyeol, “How is school?”

Chanyeol wanted to sink into the ground, though Minseok’s arm around his waist anchored him more than any amount of champagne could have.

“I dropped out,” He admitted quietly, unconsciously raising a hand to trace the hem of his choker.

“But you already knew that,” Minseok finished for him, his eyes professionally blank as he stared at Yifan, “Working for them, news travels fast.”

Them? Chanyeol’s nerves were replaced by confusion. Yifan was working for his father? Even after all that had happened?

“You heard, then,” Yifan responded, eyes dropping down to the hand on Chanyeol’s waist for no more than second, “How do you know the leading partner of Chen-Xi, Chanyeol?”

A silent couple of seconds ticked by before Minseok answered, “A mutual friend.”

“Still unable to talk for yourself, I see,” Yifan chose to ignore Minseok, “Have you even changed since we dated?”

Dating Yifan had not been the worst experience of his life – at first. He had been sweet and considerate, up until the point at which he sided with his father and denied all long-time relations with Chanyeol. But, he couldn’t blame Yifan for saving his own ass, especially considering he was on the edge of graduating and would most likely be applying to work for the top law firms.

It hadn’t made it hurt any less, surprisingly.

“You work for my father?” Chanyeol realised out-loud, before letting out a humourless laugh when he remembered Yifan had wanted to work for Chen-Xi, “You couldn’t achieve the best, but I suppose second best isn’t an awful position to be in.”

Yifan’s eyes widened, because, yes, Chanyeol was not the same silent pushover he’d been in law school.

Minseok didn’t even try to hide his satisfied grin, “It was nice catching up with you, Wu.”

The taller man chose not to spare them a glance as he stalked away and Chanyeol let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

“Thank you, I think.”

“You were handling that just fine on your own,” Minseok stated, allowing his hand to linger for a few more seconds on Chanyeol’s waist, “Though I do imagine it would’ve been far more exciting if I’d just kissed you then and there.”

The night continued on a smoother path and Chanyeol was just glad his father had never been one to attend public events – he placed himself above such things, usually.

He noticed Junmyeon slip out early, returning Minseok’s question in the form of a raised eyebrow with an innocent raise of his own eyebrows. Minseok kept Chanyeol close to his waist, even as conversations ranged from public relations to more private business matters. Not that Chanyeol cared much for the shuffling of the house of business cards, but he did find some enjoyment in watching Minseok change people’s minds and orchestrate conversations without the other party being remotely aware.

It wasn’t until Chanyeol slipped away for a bathroom break that Minseok caught him alone in the bathroom, uncaring that anyone could walk through the open door and catch the two men sharing a private kiss. But, before things had time to progress from remotely innocent, Chanyeol’s phone rang in his pocket and he frowned, half expecting it to be Sehun ready to give him an earful about Junmyeon.

It was an unknown number, giving Chanyeol no choice but to answer. Minseok watched him curiously as he answered, straightening himself out before he dusted Chanyeol off, too.

When Chanyeol hung up, he felt numb.

“Is something wrong?” Minseok asked, concern evident between his eyebrows.

Chanyeol swallowed, pocketing his phone quietly, “My mom was taken to hospital.”

“I’ll drive you-,”

“No,” He interrupted, not wanting to increase the weight on his chest that already told him he was an inconvenience, “Stay with your firm, most people are here for you anyway.”

Minseok’s eyebrows furrowed deeper, “Chanyeol…”

“I’m an adult,” Chanyeol said, unsure if it was to himself or Minseok.

“Believe me,” Minseok started, his tone soft, “I’m aware.”

“You helped me enough the last time,” Chanyeol returned, rubbing a hand over his face before he headed towards the door, “I want to deal with things… on my own.”

It was brief, and if Chanyeol had been in a better mind, a mind less full of worry for his mom and confusion concerning the other man, he would have noticed the flash of hurt in otherwise blank eyes. But, Chanyeol didn’t notice, and Minseok instead reached to catch his wrist before he left.

“If not me, then at least let my driver take you.”

Pausing for a second, Chanyeol gave the man a thankful smile, “Okay.”

“And,” Minseok let go of his wrist, though his eyes still searched the youngers face, “Tell me when you need picked up.”

Chanyeol nodded.

Heechul was mostly silent on the journey to the hospital – Chanyeol wasn’t even certain of the time, only that the roads were emptier and the sky dark. The call had been from the hospital, apparently his mom had listed him as an emergency contact on their system. The doctor had told him it would be best if he made his way quickly and Chanyeol hated that he was completely clueless as to what had happened.

“Mr Park?” The doctor questioned when Chanyeol had found the appropriate ward.

“Please, call me Chanyeol,” He returned, because there was nothing else he knew to say.

“Chanyeol,” The doctor affirmed, “You are aware of your mother’s condition, correct?”

He nodded.

“Relapses are common, especially in cases such as this, most major illnesses see steps back whenever progression is made,” The doctor explained, and Chanyeol nodded again, “She’s a little beaten and bruised, I believe the relapse happened when she was climbing the stairs. Your father is at work and we haven’t been able to contact him.”

“Is she… okay?” He asked, though thee question felt dumb, “Is she awake?”

“We managed to wake her not long ago, but I suspect she’s in a lot of pain, mainly from the treatment.”

“The treatment?”

“Anti-cancer drugs are rarely pleasant, Chanyeol.”

And Chanyeol nodded again, because honestly, what use was he? He should’ve done something useful with his life – should’ve become a doctor, or a lawyer, or joined the military. But what was he doing instead? Self-employed music work and sleeping with a firm partner who he’d already crossed too many lines with emotionally.

He tried to shut his mind up when he pushed open the door to her hospital room.

It almost winded him to see his mother like this, looking pale beneath her hospital gown with too many drips littering her bedside. He really fucking wished he hadn’t been such a disappointment, maybe then he would have been home with her; could have prevented her fall.

“Chanyeol,” She breathed out, looking up at him in surprise, “You came.”

“Of course I came,” He leaned down to plant a kiss on her head, too scared that hugging her would cause discomfort, “How are you feeling?”

The tubes travelling up her nose to help her breathe were worrying him a huge amount.

“I’m feeling fine,” His mom answered. Before coughing for a few moments.

He wasn’t convinced.

“I hope they didn’t bother your father with this.”

“Mom,” Chanyeol frowned, reaching to the bedside to hold her hand, “You’re not an inconvenience. I’m glad they called me.”

She looked blatantly at his tux and his undone bowtie, “You were having a nice night, you should have stayed.”

“Stop, it doesn’t matter what I was doing. It was just some charity event, anyway.”

“Did Minseok take you?” She questioned, though she already knew the answer.

“Yeah, he asked me to go with him.”

“He must be serious about you, then.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol bit the inside of his cheek, “No, he just had no-one else to take on such short notice, probably.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” She squeezed his hand, “He was serious enough to turn up to a lunch with your father and I, knowing full well who your father is.”

“Probably did it to spite him?”

“Now you’re just making excuses,” His mom chuckled, “You must be serious about it, if you’re running from it.”

He frowned, “I’m not running from it.”

“Love isn’t a bad thing, Chanyeol,” Her tone had turned more serious, “I don’t regret much in my life, ‘Yeol, but I do regret letting you go like that. You’re the best thing to happen to me.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Chanyeol tried to brush it off, giving his mom a small smile, “I could’ve been a better son.”

“No, I could’ve been a better mother.”

She was as stubborn as Sehun, Chanyeol silently decided. He kept careful watch, unsure if he was supposed to report anything to the doctor – like how she kept coughing until she couldn’t breathe, and how she was too weak to push herself up on the bed, and how she hadn’t noticed the cut on her hand was bleeding. Chanyeol was aching in a different way, his heart hurt to watch her like this.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, talking about nothing and everything with his mom, answering her questions no matter how childish the answers would make him sound (yes, he still ate children’s cereal). They talked about Sehun and Baekhyun (and avoided Minseok), he talked about his work and told him the dumb stories about himself and his best friends.

His mom chastised him for leaving Baekhyun at the gas station.

Eventually, she fell asleep, and Chanyeol didn’t want to leave – he continued to talk to her, continued to hold her hand as he finished off the story of how they invited Baekhyun to live with them in their new apartment and Baekhyun had cried, so unfamiliar with permanency.

Chanyeol didn’t find sleep, he merely watched until one of the nurses came in to excuse him. He picked up his tux jacket, folding it over his arm and slipping from the room. He had a missed call from Minseok he opted to ignore.

As he was leaving the ward, he bumped into his father.

“What are you doing here?” His father’s tone was accusatory and Chanyeol was far too tired to deal with such shit.

“Someone had to stay with her,” Chanyeol returned the accusatory tone.

“Some of us have real work to do, but you wouldn’t know what that’s like, would you?”

“It’s like nothing gets through your thick fucking skull,” He muttered, not meaning for his father to hear it but not regretting it slightly, even when his father pinned him against the wall.

Mr Park raised his voice, uncaring for the fact they stood in a hospital, “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I said,” Chanyeol repeated, his words slow, “It’s like nothing gets through your thick fucking skull.”

He wasn’t afraid of his father, but he probably shouldn’t have provoked the older man, either.

The fist to his face was probably, slightly, a little bit of an over-reaction.

A mixture of the exhaustion, both physically and mentally, as well as the blow to his face, meant he just slid down the wall as his father stalked off through the ward. He raised a hand to his face, groaning only when he saw the blood painting his fingers.

One of the late-night nurses had rushed over to him, already armed with a tissue to press against his nose and ensuring it wasn’t broken – he waved her away in thanks, keeping the tissue against his nose as he pushed past the door and into the cold night air.

He shivered, but it felt good. Refreshing.

The phone in his pocket rang again; it was Minseok. He let it ring. It was after 5am, the man should be asleep.

He wasn’t sure he could bring himself to speak, instead hailing a cab and pulling on his tux jacket to hide the splatters of blood on the front of his dress shirt.


	6. Chapter 6

See, Chanyeol had no real reason for not wanting Minseok to pick him up from the hospital – the issue lay within the fact that yes, Chanyeol _did_ want the lawyer to pick him up, Chanyeol _did_ want Minseok’s ever patient presence aside his own silence. He felt like he had something to prove to himself, to prove that he didn’t need Minseok and reinstate his previously spoken words that he wasn’t a child. It was an excuse, he knew it, yet used it endlessly.

His back was aching from the hours he’d spent curled up on the rigid bedside chair, his shoulders ached from exhaustion, his head was aching from the punch he’d received _and_ he was fucking tired. He wanted to sleep for a while, perhaps wake up someplace no-one knew his face nor his name. Somewhere that was _not here_ , his mind tied with knots he had no energy to thread his fingers through.

It was a dissociating feeling – it came sidled with wanting to disappear, the way he had when everything had gone up in flames with his parents. Sure, it was running from his issues, from the mess of tangled springs that came with his family and the knowledge he wasn’t good enough; he wouldn’t be graduating, he had no _real_ job.

And Kim Minseok. He wanted a man he had no right to want.

Chanyeol knew he couldn’t run – not from his mom, not like this. Not again.

The taxi came to a stop just as the sun began to peak above the horizon and Chanyeol bowed his head in thanks, his voice unused for so long he had no desire to speak. He had no reason for coming here – to Baekhyun’s – but he had often found himself standing outside his friend’s apartment when the world was beginning to spin a little too fast. He hadn’t found reason to seek refuge here in some time; he supposed he should take advantage whilst he could, before Baek inevitably moved in with them.

Looking at his phone to find it was 5am, he hoped Baekhyun wouldn’t be too pissed off to open the door. Maybe he should’ve called ahead, but he’d turned his phone onto airplane mode in the car to stop further incoming calls.

When the door finally opened, Chanyeol looked up in mild surprise to see a sleepy looking (and shirtless) stranger. They stared at each other in silence and Chanyeol considered for an odd second that he’d ended up at the wrong apartment.

Baekhyun’s head appeared up over the man’s shoulder, rubbing sleep from his eyes, “Chanyeol? It’s like, not even anywhere near your usual Saturday morning wake up time.”

“Sorry,” Chanyeol all but croaked out, trying to look remotely less pitiful.

“Is that-,” Baekhyun’s eyes then widened as he pushed past the shirtless stranger, “Is that _blood_?”

Chanyeol looked down as Baekhyun wrenched his suit jacket open, worry clouding his face when he looked back up at Chanyeol’s face to see the beginnings of blackened eyes.

“Nose injuries always look worse than they are,” He muttered, much to Baekhyun’s chagrin as he pulled his taller friend into his apartment and towards the bathroom.

“Were you in a fight?” The stranger asked. Under the bathroom light, his face seemed remotely familiar.

“Do I know you?” Chanyeol’s eyes narrowed in thought.

Baekhyun began to properly clean the blood from his face, “Who did this to you?”

He fell silent, averting his eyes. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to talk about it.

“Chanyeol.”

“My father,” Chanyeol admitted, before sighing and taking the cloth from Baekhyun to clean himself, “There’s not much else to say. Can we talk about something else?”

“I’m Yixing,” The stranger introduced, offering a small, dimpled smile.

“Oh,” He let out in reply, before turning to Baekhyun, “Wow, you work fast.”

Baekhyun punched his arm with more force than necessary before leaving to find him a shirt to change into. Yixing left to make hot cocoa and Chanyeol figured he wasn’t so bad for a dance company exec – he recalled briefly seeing the man when they’d all claimed front row to Jongin’s first solo dance performance.

“You couldn’t have called first, huh?” Baekhyun said when he returned, handing Chanyeol a shirt.

“I turned my phone off,” It was half the truth, Chanyeol reasoned with himself.

It wasn’t until they were all sitting on Baekhyun’s sofa, Chanyeol cradling the hot mug in his hands, that Chanyeol divulged how his night had gone from an upend charity event to cramped hospital chairs and a punch from his father. Baekhyun knew Chanyeol wasn’t telling him the whole story, but his friend didn’t push for answers until they were alone.

“I should probably get going,” Yixing announced a little after 6am.

Chanyeol bit his lip, “I’m sorry for… intruding.”

“It couldn’t be helped, I hope things begin to look up for you,” Yixing was sincere and Chanyeol appreciated it. The dancer then reached down to Baekhyun’s face, tilting his head up to press their mouths together, “I will see you again, right?”

“Definitely,” Baekhyun grinned as he looked up and Chanyeol swore he saw stars in his best friend’s eyes.

After the dancer left, Baekhyun crawled over to Chanyeol on the sofa and brought with him a fluffy blanket. The television made for good background noise as he let Baekhyun hug him – it was just the kind of person Baek was, he seemed to recharge his energy by interacting through excessive skinship. Chanyeol didn’t mind, he’d grown to love his friend and appreciate the comfort provided.

“Admitting faults doesn’t make you an inconvenience.”

“I know,” Chanyeol replied, frowning.

Baekhyun held up his phone, the screen lit up with a specified number of missed calls from Minseok, “Do you?”

“He has more important matters to focus on,” He returned, taking his phone to clear the notifications from the screen.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know,” Chanyeol sighed, covering his face with the blanket, “I like him.”

“I mean, yeah,” Baekhyun looked at him obviously, “I’m not blind.”

“No,” He removed the blanket, staring at Baekhyun in seriousness, “I like him a lot, Baekhyun.”

“Oh.”

“I wasn’t made for this,” Chanyeol continued, closing his eyes to sink into the heat of the sofa, “I think I need to change occupations.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Baekhyun replied, reaching for the remote to turn the television off, “I know that… whatever you’re feeling is weird.”

“Scary,” Chanyeol corrected.

“I can’t believe you’re eight years old.”

“Why are we friends?”

“Because I’m great,” Baekhyun then continued, “Whatever, touchy-feely conversations can be left until tomorrow. You need to sleep.”

Chanyeol yawned, “I’m fine.”

“You’re a liar, now sleep,” Baekhyun finalised, shuffling slightly to get more comfortable, “The world will still be here tomorrow.”

 

☽ ☾

 

Chanyeol awoke to a low throbbing in his head and a blackened eye – a side effect of having his nose punched. The bruising wasn’t bad, just visible; he remembered receiving black eyes one time he rolled over in bed and hit his nose on the wall. The swelling would go down in a few days, Chanyeol hoped, staring at Baekhyun’s ceiling from his position on the sofa.

“Are you feeling less whiney today?”

Glaring at his friend, Chanyeol pushed himself up to sit and rubbed his face with tired hands.

“I apologise,” Baekhyun continued, sitting next to him, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, thank you for the ramen.”

“I knew your dad was a total jackass but he manages to surprise me every time.”

He chewed for a moment, “I did provoke him.”

“It doesn’t matter, we should invite Jongin and take turns kicking his ass.”

“Speaking of Jongin,” Chanyeol began, “How was your night with Yixing?”

Baekhyun smiled instantly at the mention of the dancer’s name, “Let’s just say I already anticipate seeing him again. Are you going to speak to Minseok today?”

Chanyeol glanced at his phone, the reminder filling him with a feeling of dread.

During the drive back to the new apartment, Baekhyun found time to complain about how long it would take to move his stuff in with the duo; it was empty rambling but Chanyeol appreciated the lack of questions, or as Baekhyun was involved, the lack of interrogation. It gave him time to collect his thoughts, to watch the familiar buildings race by through the window as he tried to think about anything but Minseok.

The fact that he’d slept in until after midday left his body clock out of tune with the world, his movements groggy – even in the shower, as he tried to wake himself up and leave the story telling of last night’s events to Baekhyun. He dressed slowly to avoid touching his face as he pulled on a sweater, his damp hair dripping moisture at the tips.

Walking into their new living room, Chanyeol gave a surprised smile when he noticed Junmyeon sitting aside Sehun – so Junmyeon had taken his advice from the night prior, at least. He froze when he realised who was sitting on their other sofa.

Sehun offered Chanyeol a smile as he stood up, “We’re going out. Call me if you need me.”

Baekhyun waved his goodbye as he followed the two out and Chanyeol still hadn’t moved from the spot where their hallway met the living room. He didn’t want to look at Minseok, he didn’t want to feel everything that always came rushing to the surface whenever he merely looked in the lawyer’s general direction.

“Chanyeol,” Minseok stood up and Chanyeol could hear the concern even as he refused to look at the other man, “What happened to your face?”

He’d meant to cover the small bruises with makeup. He’d forgotten.

“A small mishap with my father last night.”

He chose to walk the long way to the kitchen, avoiding Minseok as he moved to open the fridge. The fridge was fuller than he remembered it being – Junmyeon really had bought them groceries. He loved Junmyeon, bless his soul.

“Did he do this to you?”

Pulling out a bottle of water, Chanyeol replied, “I’m tired, can we talk about this some other time?”

“Some other time?” Minseok retorted as Chanyeol turned to face him, “You haven’t answered my calls, when were you planning on ‘ _some other time’_?”

“Why do you care?” Chanyeol shot back, taking a sip of the water, “I thought you had work today.”

His words were unreasonable and he was aware, yet he couldn’t stop the bite from leaving his mouth as he averted his gaze to the plastic in his hands. Maybe if he pushed the lawyer away, just an arms-length, maybe then he’d find it easier to breathe, maybe then their arrangement would lessen the emotional baggage pulling Chanyeol’s shoulders down.

Minseok frowned, stepping closer to Chanyeol, “I finished early. What is this really about?”

Chanyeol moved himself behind the counter island in the kitchen, using it as a barrier between them both as the other man’s frown deepened, “Then why are you here? You have better things to do.”

“Where did you go last night?” Minseok asked, instead of retaliating, “I told you to tell me when you needed picked up.”

“And I told you I’m not a child, I can handle things on my own,” Chanyeol had raised his voice and he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“I’m not treating you like a child, Chanyeol, I’m treating you like someone I care about.”

Chanyeol’s grip on the bottle tightened, his _heart_ tightened, “I’d like you to leave, I think I need some time on my own.”

His heart almost screamed _what are you doing_ loud enough for them both to hear it.

At that, Minseok leaned against the counter and ran a hand through his hair, “Where did you go last night, instead?”

“I went to Baekhyun’s. You don’t own me or my life outside of the bedroom, Minseok. I already said I’d like you to leave.”

Minseok’s jaw clenched and Chanyeol tried not to watch the way the muscle jumped, “Can you not see I was worried about you? I wanted to know you were okay, but you wouldn’t even answer your fucking phone. I was concerned, because I _care_ , Chanyeol. Here I am, yet you won’t even look at me.”

It was like holding a firework, watching the fire travel down the fuse and towards the gunpowder excited to burn him.

He could see the lawyer was frustrated without even looking him in the eye. So, perhaps the man _did_ care about Chanyeol – but, it was easy to care about someone when you spent enough time with them. Or had enough sex with them. Chanyeol let out a bitter laugh, looking up to meet Minseok’s eyes for the first time. The regret was instant, Chanyeol’s heart thudding harder in his chest as he stared the man who owned his heart in the eye.

Chanyeol supposed he should get it out of the way. Return to a normal life – or at least, a non-emotional, purely physical business relationship with Minseok.

“I thought you said you didn’t have time for stringed commitment.”

It was like he saw the built composure in Minseok’s eyes snap.

“You’re right,” Minseok pushed himself up from the island, straightening his cuff as his face fell back to the coldness Chanyeol hated, “I don’t.”

And it was what Chanyeol had wanted to hear, so why did it feel like a knuckle-dusted punch to his chest? Still, he nodded, let the sting sink to his skin as he left his bottle neglected atop the counter. They’d established on the first night that this wasn’t a deal for attachment, with Minseok’s lack of time for stringed commitment and Chanyeol’s own lack of appeal in permanency.

So, why was permanency so appealing when that permanency was Minseok?

“Show yourself out, Minseok,” His voice was quiet, his heart winded.

The lawyer’s eyes had widened, “Chanyeol, I didn’t-,”

Perhaps it was the long night, the long week, his father, the knowledge this was always going to happen from the moment he felt butterflies dance in his stomach, but it took every piece of energy Chanyeol had left to swallow down the way he wanted to just crumble.

“Please leave.”

Minseok heaved out a sigh, hesitating where he stood. There were a million things that could’ve been said in that moment, a million reasons to claim that Chanyeol was just being dramatic or unreasonable because he was tired or delusional, but the lawyer remained silent, eventually turning to see himself out the apartment.

Chanyeol had thought this would lessen the weight on his shoulders, make it easier to breathe, but the air in the kitchen merely suffocated him.

 

☽ ☾

 

His mother hadn’t shown any signs of improvement when he visited her later that day. The doctor didn’t say she was doing particularly worse, but Chanyeol could see the pity in the doctor’s eyes, the lack of confidence when he said he’d seen people recover from worse stages of similar illnesses. Her body was exhausted and Chanyeol had been told it was unlikely for her to wake up during Chanyeol’s visiting hour. He stayed regardless.

If he ignored the sterile white sheets and beeps of machines, he could almost pretend his mom was asleep. Almost. He could pinpoint the moment her chest shuddered on each exhale, the struggle to continue pulling air into her lungs and the occasional wheeze. He’d missed years he could’ve spent beside her.

It wasn’t completely his fault, he knew. His father played a role in that too.

Maybe that thought was partially to blame for his own lack of patience the next time he saw the man.

“You should stay away from here, she’ll recover quicker without you.”

Chanyeol looked up from washing his hands in the sink to meet his father’s eyes in the mirror.

“Did you follow me in here?” He reached for a paper towel, drying his hands slowly to avoid looking up.

“Stay away from here, Chanyeol.”

“She’s my fucking mom,” Chanyeol snapped, throwing the paper in the bin a little more aggressively than necessary.

“You’ve hardly acted like a son.”

He turned, rolling his eyes, “And you’ve hardly acted like a father, Mr. Park. Now, excuse me, I have places to be.”

His father was stood between him and the door and Chanyeol was beginning to feel slightly claustrophobic within the tiled room without windows.

“Places to be?” His father snorted, “What, playing pet to Kim? Has he not replaced you already?”

Chanyeol felt his fists clench at his sides, “God, don’t you have anything fucking better to do?”

“He has, hasn’t he?” His father then let out a laugh, “Did he find someone better?”

“What, you mean the way mom found someone better when she called me from the hospital, and not you?”

His father had always been physical and hot-headed, so really, Chanyeol was expecting the second fist to his face in as many days. Except, when pain exploded across his face again, he didn’t see red, he saw white, _felt_ white-hot anger pulse through his veins as he pushed himself up and slammed a complementary fist back into his father’s face.

Pain flared up in his fist as he remembered, distractedly, oh, _oops_ , you weren’t supposed to punch like _that_. Before he even had the time to hope he hadn’t broken anything, his father slammed his back into the hard tile of the bathroom wall.

Chanyeol wheezed, trying to keep air in his lungs as hands closed around his throat and his eyes widened in shock – he raised his knee in defence, smashing it into his father’s groin and pushing the man away from him as he reached for the bathroom door. Hands were on him again and Chanyeol didn’t even think before slamming his elbow into Mr Park’s face, hearing a grotesque crunch followed by a literal snarl.

Before he was in the clear, feet tripped him up and he stumbled, falling into the hospital corridor as his father stumbled after him and they scuffled – eventually, Chanyeol managed to roll them until he remained on top, straddling Mr Park’s stomach as blood dripped from both of their faces.

He doesn’t remember much after that. Security hauling him to his feet, pulling him away from Mr Park who yelled and pointed a finger in Chanyeol’s direction, a deep throbbing through his jaw and a bust lip dripping blood down his chin. A quick check up, nothing broken, Mr Park accusing him of assault, a security room – police.

Chanyeol laughing, humourlessly, when he remembered Mr Park was the largest shareholder of the hospital. So, of course, he was arrested. The fight occurred in the bathroom, no cameras, and Chanyeol was then pulled from on top of Mr Park; it looked bad, from an out-side perspective. He’d allowed himself to be provoked, allowed himself to fight back, allowed Mr Park to drag him into this loophole. Chanyeol remained without regret, for once in his life. Fuck him.

As per rules and regulations, he was given a phone call. He called Sehun.

“I might’ve fucked up,” He started the moment Sehun answered.

“ _Chanyeol? What the fuck did you do? Whose phone number is this?_ ”

“Um,” Chanyeol looked across the desk at the police officer watching him carefully, “I was arrested?”

A sigh, “ _Jesus Christ. I’m coming._ ”

“Don’t bring Baekhyun, he’ll freak out when he sees my face.”

“ _Your face? What the fuck did you-._ ”

Chanyeol hung up, handing the phone over to the officer and allowing himself to be led into the waiting cells. He knew his father was pulling strings to have him arrested, that much was obvious, he just hoped his father wasn’t going to do his absolute worst. Sure, it was borderline corporate corruption, but he’d known for a long time his father had money in places a normal law firm partner shouldn’t.

Sehun arrived in record time, Chanyeol could already hear his snarky comments as the officer opened the door to the holding cells. Chanyeol was situated within a waiting cell, one that drunkards tended to be kept in overnight when acting disorderly. He cringed the moment Sehun saw his face and let out a literal screech.

“What the _fuck_ -”

“You have five minutes,” The officer told Sehun, leaning against the door with his arms crossed.

Sehun scowled, spinning on his feet to give the officer a piece of his mind.

“Sehun,” Chanyeol sighed, moving closer to the bars so he could talk to his best friend, “We don’t have much time. What did they say to you?”

His best friend deflated, “Nothing, just that you attacked some guy at the hospital.”

Chanyeol snorted, “My father.”

“I guessed as much,” Sehun replied, the scowl permanent on his face, “This is so fucking stupid. Public disorder, I’d understand, but why wasn’t that scumbag arrested too?”

“He’s a respected figurehead of the hospital,” Chanyeol concluded, leaning against the bars.

“That’s fucking bullshit and you know it,” Sehun retorted, “If it was me, I would’ve fucking punch-”

“Three minutes,” The officer interrupted in warning.

“I think my father is just trying to scare me,” Chanyeol informed with a sigh, “Show off how much power he still has over me.”

“That’s bullshit!” Sehun repeated, looking close to kicking the bars between them, “What about bail?”

“They didn’t say anything.”

It was visibly obvious when Sehun’s patience ended as he spun on his feet to argue with the officer.

“Are you charging him?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss-”

“Shut up,” Sehun interrupted and the officer scowled, “You can’t just keep him-”

“Sehun,” Chanyeol tried.

“If you don’t take a step back, Mr Oh, I’m going to arrest you.”

“Save it, idiot, if you don’t let him-”

“Are you threatening me, Mr Oh?”

“Sehun,” Chanyeol repeated.        

“It’s more than a threat you fucking-”

“You have the right to remain silent…”

Chanyeol groaned, letting his head fall against the bars as Sehun was pulled from the holding cell area.

He waited, knowing Sehun hadn’t done anything particularly too bad, just that the officer had a pride too large to let it slip. And perhaps the fact Sehun had been in the officer’s face, pointing his finger. Chanyeol just sighed, watching as the same officer dragged Sehun back into the holding cells and pushed him into the empty one.

“No conversing with each other,” The officer started, pointing at them both before leaving.

Sehun waited three seconds.

“They weren’t gonna let me stay with you,” Sehun informed, shrugging, “I called Junmyeon, we’ll be fine.”

His friend was right. It wasn’t long before Chanyeol was being led into an interview room, uncuffed and waiting. He was pissed off, rightfully so, this kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen under just law. Sure, public disorder would make sense, because, yes, they were fighting in a goddamn hospital – but, he hadn’t thrown the first punch and it sure as hell wasn’t the assault Mr Park was claiming.

So, why the fuck was he waiting on a lawyer?

Junmyeon appeared mildly amused as he entered the room, up until his eyes landed on Chanyeol’s face. Chanyeol smiled, and then winced, when he remembered his scabbing bust lip.

“Are you okay?” Junmyeon asked first and Chanyeol was partially touched.

“I’m fine,” Chanyeol lied, ready for the entire year to be over, “Did you deal with Sehun?”

“Yes, he’s an idiot,” Junmyeon answered, fondly.

“Gross,” He managed in reply.

“What happened?” Sehun’s lawyer boyfriend eventually asked.

Chanyeol relayed the events as he remembered them, mentioning the first punch from Mr Park a day prior and their meeting in the bathroom. Junmyeon nodded, asking little questions where appropriate and eventually abandoning his notepad when he realised he wouldn’t even need to try hard to build a defence.

“Sehun’s told me bits and pieces about your relationship with your parents,” Junmyeon admitted, playing idly with his pen, “I’m sorry you have to deal with this. You deserve so much better.”

He wanted to cry, a little.

“Thank you.”

“As for today,” Junmyeon then sighed, “It’s clear from your face that this wasn’t a one-sided fight. I can get you out within the hour.”

“Thank you,” Chanyeol repeated, unsure of what else to say.

“It’s likely Mr Park will claim self-defence and, as you said, there are no cameras within the restroom to prove either of you right. I see no logical reason but him to pursue this, but…”

“It’s me, so he will,” Chanyeol finished for him, feeling a little sick to his stomach.

“I’m sorry, Chanyeol,” Junmyeon sounded sincere, “I’ll represent you, if that’s what you want.”

Chanyeol nodded, looking down at his hands. They were still bloody. He glanced away.

“You know, if he pursues this and he fails – you’ll have an even better case for charges against him, if that’s something you’re willing to consider,” Junmyeon continued, “I’m not just talking about this, but the past. Everything he’s put you through, and I mean _everything_ , Chanyeol.”

Swallowing, Chanyeol took a moment to think about his mom, about her health, and he shook his head, “I just want this to be over and done with. Then I never want to see him again.”

“I understand,” Junmyeon then nodded, standing up, “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Thank you, ‘Myeon.”

“Out of curiosity,” Sehun’s maybe-boyfriend paused at the door, “Why didn’t you call him?”

Chanyeol’s eyes jumped up at the mention of Minseok, staring at Junmyeon for a few seconds before he answered, “Our last conversation wasn’t the greatest.”

Junmyeon tilted his head for a moment, considering, “He’s not as blasé as he appears to be, but you know that. Maybe next time, then.”

Frowning, Chanyeol watched the other man leave.

 

☽ ☾

 

It was inevitable that Chanyeol found himself at the hospital again. Even if such a decision was reckless, considering that his current situation may lead to a real fucking court case in which it’s him against his father. Sehun was right; it was bullshit. But, Chanyeol was exhausted, he was fucking done with his recent fate.

He’d left the station alongside Sehun and Junmyeon, the two rather nondescript about the fact Sehun had literally gotten himself arrested for the hell of it. Sehun had given him a hug and a look that said something like _don’t do something dumb you dummy_ and Junmyeon merely gave him a small smile. Chanyeol appreciated them both.

He did.

He just needed some time alone – to see if there had been any update on his mom.

Except, when Chanyeol reached the room he was more than certain his mother was previously situated within, the bed was empty and his mom was gone. He checked the floor level again, the door number, even checked a few neighbouring rooms. She was gone.

“Um,” Chanyeol announced his presence at the nurse’s desk, “Has Mrs Park been moved rooms?”

The nurse glanced up, frowning at the cut on his lip and the dark bruise on his jaw before typing a few commands into her computer, “Can I ask your name?”

“Park Chanyeol – I’m her son.”

“Oh,” The nurse replied, reading the computer screen before saying, “I’m sorry, it appears as though she’s been discharged.”

“Discharged?” Chanyeol asked, rather incredulously, “She wasn’t even _awake_ when I left here earlier today.”

“It’s late,” The nurse returned, looking pointedly at the clock, “Maybe you should go home, too, Mr Park.”

Chanyeol scowled at the name, turning on his heel and back towards the elevators. It was after 10pm, he shouldn’t even be in the hospital at such a time, he supposed; but he _was_ an emergency contact, he had every right to be here. As he was leaving the ward, he spotted the doctor he’d talked to previously and made a last-minute _fuck it_ decision as he pulled the doctor aside.

“Did you discharge Mrs Park?” He said in one breath.

The doctor frowned, before realisation dawned on his face and he sighed, “I did not. Your father had her moved onto your home residence with a private doctor. That’s all I can tell you, I have to go.”

Chanyeol thanked the doctor, a lump in his throat as the doctor hurried off to where he needed to be. His mom had been moved back to her home – to his parent’s home. An entire city away.

A place he wouldn’t be granted access to for the duration of the bullshit trial his father was putting forward.

He felt sick, his blood not sitting right in his veins as he heaved in the cold night air. It felt like his lungs refused to take it in, his breathing quickening as he sat down on a bench outside the hospital. He wouldn’t be able to see his mom and his father was taking him to fucking court. Not only that, but his own father had literally tried to beat the shit out of him.

The cold did feel good against his aching face, though it felt like fire in his lungs and Chanyeol sunk bank onto the bench in defeat.

The family home held memories Chanyeol would rather never meet again and him setting foot there would surely hand his ass an entire team of legal issues.

His father was really trying to take everything from him. He felt sick again.

Pulling out his phone, he forced his eyes to close against the sting of tears.

“ _Chanyeol?_ ”

Chanyeol didn’t even remember pressing call, nor searching for this specific name.

“Pick me up,” He hated how small his voice sounded, “Please, Minseok.”

“ _Where are you? I’m on my way_.”

He held the phone against his ear as he waited, his muscles tense – they grew even tenser when Minseok’s personal car pulled up against the curb and the lawyer climbed out of the driver’s seat. He remained tense, even as Minseok took the phone from his hand and pulled him to his feet – even as Minseok used a finger to tilt his face into the light, tutting at the homage of bruises painting his face.

Minseok opened the passenger door to the car and Chanyeol muttered a barely audible thank you, sliding into the seat and urging away the feeling of wanting to curl in on himself and disappear.

Neither of them spoke until Minseok pulled out of the parking lot.

“Am I taking you home?” Minseok asked, glancing at the younger for just a moment.

Chanyeol shook his head. He didn’t want to go home; he wanted to stay with Minseok and he hated himself for it.

“It’s cold out and you’re not even wearing a jacket,” Minseok chastised, though there was a playful tilt to his tone, “I bought hot chocolate.”

The younger glanced down, spotting the two Starbucks cups in the drinks holder. Chanyeol was beginning to feel warmer inside without the aid of hot chocolate – it wasn’t fair that Minseok had this impact on him. Minseok’s cup held coffee, he could smell it over the scent of his own hot chocolate.

Sliding off his shoes, Chanyeol pulled his knees to his chin atop the leather seat and stared out the window. They were on an empty motorway leading to neither of their homes and Chanyeol frowned, though he said nothing, watching the remnants of clouds disappear as they passed over the moon. It was a shame the city lights hid the stars from the night sky.

The world remained moving fast and Chanyeol just wanted a pause to breathe.

They lapped into a semi-comfortable silence, a surprisingly nice feat considering their last conversation. With only the hum of the engine between them, Chanyeol felt himself sink deeper into the seat as they continued to drive – they drove until Chanyeol’s tense shoulders started to unwind, the knots undoing themselves as he allowed his mind to deflate and eventually, his shoulders sagged and he stared down at his legs.

He felt ridiculous – immature, childish. Everything he’d tried not to be. It felt even more ridiculous when Chanyeol realised he missed the weight of Minseok’s hand on his thigh; missed a slither of the physical relationship they’d shared and they hadn’t even been in the car for long. It was like a craving, under his skin, a demand his mind didn’t want to answer.

“Thank you,” Chanyeol said, eventually.

Minseok looked across at him, the inside of the car illuminated only by the lights on the dashboard, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got smashed in the face,” Chanyeol admitted, his tongue tracing the scab now on his bottom lip, “Did you speak to Junmyeon, today?”

“I did,” Minseok confirmed and Chanyeol didn’t miss the way his hand tightened on the steering wheel. There was a beat of silence, before he continued, “You could have called me.”

Chanyeol’s heart hurt.

“I know,” He eventually replied, looking back out the window.

“Let me represent you,” Minseok said, startling Chanyeol, “I don’t doubt Junmyeon’s capability, but I’m more confident in my own.”

Something remained unsaid, yet Chanyeol was unsure what.

“No,” Chanyeol answered, his eyes wide, “You’re _Xiumin_ , I’m not letting you represent me pro-bono on a fake assault case.”

“So, why allow Junmyeon?” Minseok fired back, his eyes scarily focused on the road ahead, “What is he that I am not?”

“Minseok,” Chanyeol said, voice small, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Do you not trust me?”

Chanyeol was frowning, now, “I trust you.”

“You didn’t even tell me your mother was sick, Chanyeol,” And for a split second, Minseok appeared more vulnerable than Chanyeol had ever seen him.

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol placed his chin atop his knees, “I just wanted-.”

“To deal with things on your own, I know,” Minseok finished for him, “I wouldn’t think any less of you for confiding in me, I _want_ you to confide in me.”

He took a small breath before replying, “If you’re sure.”

When Minseok glanced over at him again, Chanyeol was struck by how unfair it was… again.

The way Minseok looked at him wasn’t fair, because he looked at Chanyeol like he was the most important thing in the world – he always had, his sharp eyes igniting the butterflies lining the younger’s stomach like he _knew_ he was doing it. Chanyeol wasn’t supposed to fall in love, not now, not with Minseok. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

It didn’t take long to figure out where they were going; somewhere they could see the expanse of the city from above, somewhere he and Sehun had once disappeared to as kids. It felt different, this time.

Minseok parked at the highest allowed point for cars and they both opened their doors, Chanyeol shivering at the welcoming night breeze that curled around him. Minseok didn’t give the breeze long, wrapping his own jacket around Chanyeol’s shoulders and slipping his hand into Chanyeol’s, tugging him further up the trail.

Chanyeol followed easily, his eyes on Minseok despite the array of nature around them. They stopped where the railing stopped and Minseok said nothing, allowing them both to breathe in the air free from the pollution of the city. In the distance, Chanyeol could still see the nightlights of the city, the odd pair of headlights and the neon signs of life.

His eyes fell to a close, his breathing smoothing out as he tried to forget the mess of a day he’d left behind.

Minseok’s hand was still warm within his own.

“Do you have work tomorrow?” Chanyeol asked, failing to keep the guilt out of his voice at the late time.

The lawyer hummed, the lights of the city dancing in his eyes, “Allow me to represent you.”

Chanyeol shook his head, almost pleading, “No, he already knows that we… Well, he thinks that we’re… You know. He’ll use that. He’ll target you. I won’t allow that.”

Minseok hummed, “Have I mentioned that I find you endearing?”

“It may have come up before,” Chanyeol answered, his cheeks aflame with blush.

Using their entwined fingers, Minseok tugged him down, caught Chanyeol’s lips with his own and Chanyeol gasped in surprise. Minseok kissed him, kissed him until the blush on his face deepened and Chanyeol’s fingers were grasping the lawyer’s shoulders in an attempt to merely ground himself. Minseok was kissing him and it wasn’t fair; it wasn’t fair that any man could do this with such little emotional attachment.

Was this how Sehun felt?

Minseok kissed him until he was drowning, moaning, his heart hesitating with each beat.

Yet when Minseok tugged Chanyeol back towards the car, Chanyeol allowed him to, allowed himself to be pushed up against the metal exterior, until his fingers trembled from where they gripped the material of the lawyer’s shirt, until his heart coaxed fire up his veins and he doubted the need for Minseok’s jacket.

Chanyeol stopped, hands pushing at Minseok’s chest until they could both breathe. Minseok stared up at him and Chanyeol swallowed, his insides melting away with the seconds.

Minseok began kissing lightly across the bruise on his jaw, nosing just beneath his ear when he whispered, “I am terribly fond of you, Park Chanyeol.”

And Chanyeol hated the way his heart thrummed, heat swelling in his stomach for reasons other than arousal – because it had taken Chanyeol this long to realise that _of course_ Minseok didn’t express things the way everyone else did. _Of course_ Minseok didn’t express love the way everyone else did.

Chanyeol didn’t allow himself that freedom of thought, pushing at Minseok’s chest again until they were face to face, their foreheads touching as they breathed in each other.

“Minseok,” Chanyeol’s voice was hardly above a whisper, “You…?”

“I never had time for stringed commitment,” Minseok’s eyes were wide, akin to a deer caught.

“I know,” Chanyeol replied; he’d been telling himself that from the start.

“Then, what is this?” Minseok asked, his voice quiet, “If I don’t have time for stringed commitment, what have I been doing with you all this time?”

Chanyeol’s pulse was thudding in his ears as he leaned back against the car, “I don’t know.”

The lawyer stared at him, his eyes serious but not uncertain, “I care about you more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Minseok…” Chanyeol let out, the name almost a whine on his lips as he froze where he stood.

But, then Minseok’s lips are on his own again and he didn’t have to think, didn’t have to frustrate himself thinking about the endless possibilities of what that could mean. It took a small amount of effort to open the backdoor of the car, Minseok pushing Chanyeol across the leather upholstery to climb in on top of him.

Minseok’s thigh slid between Chanyeol’s legs as his tongue slid into Chanyeol’s mouth, the younger groaning and wrapping his arms around Minseok. Chanyeol all but grinded against the lawyer’s thigh, growing hard in his pants as Minseok wasted no time in ridding them both of their shirts.

Chanyeol did not hesitate in running his hands up Minseok’s torso, moaning at the pleasure on Minseok’s face when his hands found hardened nipples. Sitting up, Chanyeol leaned against the closed car door as Minseok straddled his lap, grinding down until Chanyeol was whimpering where he trailed kisses across the other’s chest.

“Please tell me you have lube,” Chanyeol groaned out when Minseok’s fingers threaded through his hair.

“I don’t, fuck,” Minseok’s voice was deeper, quieter, and he kissed Chanyeol one last time before asking, “Do you trust me?”

Chanyeol didn’t hesitate, “I trust you.”

Minseok pressed his lips briefly to Chanyeol’s forehead before he shuffled backwards and Chanyeol took a second to accept the fact that car sex was not, in fact, comfortable or easy. Sliding his pants and underwear off at once, Minseok kneaded small circles into Chanyeol’s thigh and asked him to sit back as he placed his face between Chanyeol’s legs.

At the first press of Minseok’s tongue against his rim, he gasped and allowed one of his hands to grip the top of the leather seat, legs falling open as much as the back seat allowed them to. Minseok pressed in a little harder, pushing his tongue past the tight muscle as Chanyeol whimpered, his resolve falling apart by the second.

The sound was almost grotesque, Minseok over-compensating in saliva as he slid a finger alongside his tongue – it went straight to Chanyeol’s dick, his back arching against the car door as he vaguely prayed that no-one chose this night for late sightseeing.

Minseok took his time, working him open with one finger and his tongue until he was happy that a second finger wouldn’t hurt too much.

“Fuck,” Chanyeol hissed, his jaw clenching at the burn of the stretch and the pleasure that Minseok’s tongue brought.

Finding a rhythm, Minseok continued to pump two fingers into Chanyeol until the younger begged him to add a third, begged Minseok to fill him and make him feel good. Minseok groaned in reply, taking a second to shush Chanyeol because _we have to be careful, kitten, I don’t want to hurt you_.

Chanyeol was hard and leaking against his stomach, his arm aching from how hard he gripped the leather seat as Minseok slid a third finger into him.

“Please,” Chanyeol let out in a sob, “Minseok, _god_ , I don’t care, please fuck me.”

Minseok groaned again, his grip on Chanyeol’s thigh tightening as he continued to work him open, his saliva stretching Chanyeol open until he melted into a whimpering mess, writhing atop the leather seating. He continued until Chanyeol stopped him with a hand in his hair, whining about coming too soon.

“Are you sure, kitten?” He waited for Chanyeol’s nod before he sat back, sliding off his own pants and pulling Chanyeol to straddle him. Holding his hand up to Chanyeol’s mouth, the lawyer smirked, “Spit.”

Chanyeol blushed as he complied, allowing his saliva to drop onto Minseok’s hand and watching as Minseok used it to slick up his own cock. He groaned, gripping Minseok’s shoulder harder as the lawyer positioned his hips correctly.

Sinking down slowly, Chanyeol felt winded, the stretch gripping his insides as Minseok’s grip on his hips helped him. It took him longer than he would’ve liked to bottom out, sitting in Minseok’s lap and breathing heavy into the crook of Minseok’s neck.

Minseok rubbed a hand up his back soothingly, “You’re okay, kitten, you’re fine. I’ve got you.”

It took some time for Chanyeol to adjust, until his breathing evened out and he felt confident that Minseok wasn’t about to split him in half. He moved slowly, Minseok’s grip ensuring Chanyeol wouldn’t move too fast before he was ready. Rolling his hips, he gasped against Minseok’s neck and allowed his teeth to bite lightly, enjoying Minseok’s own gasp.

With time, he began to roll his hips quicker, Minseok whispering praises into his ear as his lips sucked light marks into Minseok’s soft skin. A whine left his throat when Minseok thrust up softly and he took the hint, lifting himself up and keening when Minseok’s cock hit him just right.

The burn faded into the background as he began to properly ride the other, his hands looping around the back of Minseok’s neck as he arched and bared his own. Minseok took advantage, bruising his own marks into the crook of Chanyeol’s neck as he drove up into the younger – Chanyeol cried out as Minseok found what he was looking for, his thrusts growing less soft as the younger’s moans grew louder.

Chanyeol clenched around Minseok as he dropped himself down, bouncing on the other’s lap until he drew a particularly loud groan from the lawyer. His victory was short lived, as Minseok soon gripped his hips and began to properly thrust up and into Chanyeol, who whimpered and tried to find Minseok’s mouth with his own.

Minseok chuckled before kissing him properly, the action offset by the rhythm of their thrusts but Chanyeol didn’t care, kissing everywhere he could reach as he moved his hips faster, slammed down harder until his thighs were burning in exertion.

“Please, Minseok,” He whimpered, unsure what he was asking for.

“So perfect, kitten,” Minseok murmured back, his breathing haggard and uneven, “Are you going to come for me, hm?”

Chanyeol sobbed out a confirmation, his hips jolting forward when Minseok slammed into his prostate. He was practically rutting against the older man, begging until he felt like he couldn’t hold anymore – and then holding on longer, his grip on Minseok tightening as everything from his day felt irrelevant, until the only thing that mattered was Minseok inside him; Minseok holding him, kissing him, marking Chanyeol up as _his_.

“Minseok,” He moaned, his head buried in the crook of Minseok’s neck.

“Come for me, Chanyeol,” Minseok’s voice rumbled through his chest.

Chanyeol gasped, clenching around Minseok tightly as he released between them, making a mess of their chests and riding out his orgasm until he was whining, kissing along Minseok’s neck and telling him how perfect he felt. Minseok’s grip on his hips tightened, bruising, as he buried himself deep into Chanyeol and came, filling the other with a low groan that joined the quiet of the car.

Not wanting to move, Chanyeol stayed where he was, Minseok buried deep within him and the both of them panting to regain their breath. Chanyeol planted kisses all over the lawyer, up his jaw and across his mouth, until Minseok laughed and grabbed Chanyeol’s face to kiss him properly.

He felt like he was floating, Minseok’s arms wrapped tightly around them and a fucking mess between them.

Luckily enough, Minseok carried tissues and cleaned them both up; he pulled out of Chanyeol with an apologetic glance, kissing the wince from Chanyeol’s face and retrieving a spare shirt he kept in the boot of the car for the younger. Except, when he reached the seat, Chanyeol was already wearing his worn shirt and sliding into his boxers with a small smirk.

Minseok rolled his eyes, pulling on the clean shirt for himself before climbing back into the car.

They sat together, quietly, Chanyeol’s head in Minseok’s clothed lap with the lawyer’s fingers trailing through his hair.

Chanyeol stared up at him, licking along the cut on his lip and thankful it hadn’t split during their activities. He could’ve fallen asleep, were it not for all the things left unsaid between them pushing through his mind. It took him a few moments to realise Minseok was staring back down at him.

“Hi,” Chanyeol greeted.

“Good evening,” Minseok returned his antiques, “Shall we get you home?”

The thought of returning home to an empty bed was not a pleasant one.

“To your home,” Chanyeol clarified, earning a raised eyebrow from Minseok.

“I’m working tomorrow.”

“Take me with you,” He returned, almost shamelessly.

“Let me represent you against your father,” Minseok shot back.

Chanyeol narrowed his eyes, watching the other stare back in seriousness.

“It could get messy,” Chanyeol tried.

“I don’t doubt it.”

“And you’re okay with that?” He asked, uncertain, “He’ll come for you, Minseok. Because of me.”

Minseok chuckled, the sound almost inaudible as he leaned down to kiss Chanyeol, “I’d love to see him try.”

Chanyeol kissed him back, holding on a little longer. Things might just be okay.


	7. Chapter 7

It was not that the world had slowed to paint a better picture, Chanyeol merely assumed it was harder to entertain negativity when Minseok’s arm was curled across his chest and his leg was thrown across Chanyeol’s own. In another world, perhaps, he would feel trapped, pinned down and unable to move, locked shut by obligations and technicalities – except, Chanyeol didn’t want to move, he didn’t want Minseok to wake up, just yet. He didn’t want to forget the unfurling of warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with Minseok’s own body heat, and everything to do with how peaceful Minseok looked, his cheek pressed against Chanyeol’s shoulder in slumber.

When Minseok eventually stirred, his eyes blinked blearily up at Chanyeol in soft tiredness. Chanyeol’s momentary lapse of guilt for being the reason behind Minseok’s exhaustion dissipated the moment the lawyer smiled up at him, stretching his arms above his head though his head remained atop Chanyeol’s stomach. He yawned, and Chanyeol stared – Chanyeol was caught staring and the elder cocked an eyebrow at him.

Chanyeol didn’t need to be told, this time; it felt simpler, leaning down to kiss Minseok softly and ignoring their morning breath. The implications behind such a kiss had more depth, yet Chanyeol felt himself reluctant to remind the elder of their conversation from the night prior.

“Good morning,” Minseok murmured, raising his hand to trail fingers through Chanyeol’s hair.

“Hi,” Chanyeol replied softly, before Minseok pulled him up and towards the bathroom.

The morning moved quicker than Chanyeol’s preference, Minseok pulling him beneath the spray of the shower and practically shoving some healthy mix of vegetables into his mouth as Heechul alerted them of his arrival in the downstairs parking lot. So, what if Chanyeol chose to avoid thinking deeper about the endearing smile Minseok kept sending his way? It was still different, for Chanyeol felt less like shit and more like a prepubescent unable to keep his heart in check.

He knew they had yet to discuss the night before, but Chanyeol wasn’t feeling… negative, less one-sided and no longer standing on the edge of some cliché bottomless abyss with rejection at its centre. No, Chanyeol was content, content in the way the lawyer kept finding ways to entwine their fingers, content in the way the elder would use his thumb to remove the spot of toothpaste on Chanyeol’s lip – linking their hands in public, even as Heechul mumbled about naïve honeymoon phases and kids.

The _Chen-Xi_ building felt far less daunting with Minseok mere steps ahead, the expensive architecture not as domineering and security barely giving him a second glance as they advanced into the firm’s headquarters.

“I should speak to Junmyeon,” Chanyeol began once they reached the correct floor, “Inform him that I took his advice.”

“His advice?” Minseok cocked an eyebrow.

“Yup,” He replied, “Just words between friends.”

Minseok almost rolled his eyes, murmuring a thanks to the secretary who handed him a cup of coffee, “I may require Junmyeon for the legal team I am putting together, do tell him that, too.”

Chanyeol nodded, the words _legal team_ rolling over in his head because _holy shit_ this was serious – his fucking father was taking him to court and Minseok would be representing him. It hardly felt real; and it stung, his father had already done so much, was it possible he truly did hate his own son? Ignoring that thought, Chanyeol opted to focus on the idea that he was so much more than his father’s son. After this, he was done – he had his mom, and his friends, and Minseok, no-one more.

Junmyeon was somehow bright as sunshine despite the early hour, though he did inform Chanyeol, with a slight frown, that Park International would be putting forth the case for assault. Chanyeol had suspected as much.

“I would also be honoured to participate on the team for this case,” Junmyeon finished with a nod.

Chanyeol snorted, “Junmyeon, I’ve known you for like a year. I’m well aware what your fake-ass business persona looks like.”

“Or,” Junmyeon deadpanned, “I could kick you out my office.”

“I’m going. But, thank you, ‘Myeon.”

“Not at all, just have Zitao draft me and I’ll be there.”

“Um,” Chanyeol froze, turning to face Junmyeon from his position at the door, “Zitao as in… Huang Zitao?”

“The one and only,” Junmyeon confirmed with an amused smile, “You didn’t know he was Minseok’s secretary?”

Chanyeol shook his head, “I never met him, before… well, before _here_.”

“How do you think I met Sehun?” Junmyeon asked and Chanyeol felt a slither of recognition, “Anyway, like I said, just ask Tao to draft me before I’m needed.”

He should’ve realised – the year before, Sehun was introduced to Junmyeon through a mutual friend (Zitao) already in _that_ business. He’d heard in passing of the other man, predominantly through Sehun and Baekhyun, though they’d never met. Chanyeol had suspected the secretary’s accent to be foreign, at least he’d been right about that.

It was odd to see Minseok under such professional circumstances, though the man did seem to carry a constant air of propriety – this was different, Chanyeol could _feel_ the way everyone in the room looked towards Minseok with blatant respect, not one person questioning anything that left his mouth. It was even odder that Chanyeol was a part of this room, sat at this table, a table full of potential candidates for a legal team supporting _him_.

“Do we suspect Mr Park will represent himself?” Seulgi, the associative intern, asked.

“Perhaps a member of his senior team,” A senior associate Chanyeol had yet to learn the name of suggested, “I heard talk of a recent promotion.”

Chanyeol allowed himself to glance back to Minseok, though the lawyer remained silent.

“Wu Yifan,” Seulgi confirmed and Chanyeol had to hold back his own wince, “Potentially Do Kyungsoo, we haven’t heard much.”

There were a few groans from the rest of the table.

“Is it really significant as to who will be representing Mr Park?” Minseok asked and Chanyeol suspected he was not looking for an answer.

“Nope,” Luhan announced as he entered the room, a dossier in one hand and an envelope in the other, “It’s Yifan.”

Chanyeol had first met Luhan at the charity event – a paralegal who often doubled as a journalist.

So, Yifan would be the one attempting to have him charged in court. Pleasant.

“We’ll reconvene after lunch,” Minseok told the table, “Luhan, take this to Jongdae – and let Tao know we’ll need a conference room free.”

Luhan bowed his head, taking the dossier with him as Chanyeol frowned – a conference room could only mean one thing.

“Is he coming here?” Chanyeol asked, after the intern left.

“I’m doubtful,” Minseok answered, his finger slipping under the lapel of the envelop to open it, “Though I do suspect Yifan will be the one to make an appearance.”

“Why so soon?” Chanyeol continued, before realising with a deflating sigh, “He wants a settlement.”

“Your days at law school were not a complete waste, then,” Minseok’s tone was light, half-hearted and Chanyeol appreciated it, “But, yes. This letter confirms that.”

He hoped his father opted to remain out of direct contact – he hoped he would never have to see the other man’s face again, and were it not for his obligation to attend a possible trial, he never would.

“Settlements are quick and easy,” Chanyeol said, quietly.

Minseok pressed his lips together for a moment, considering the younger before he sighed, “Perhaps. If it’s what you’d prefer, we could settle – you don’t have to worry about money, Chanyeol. I’ve got you.”

“And then we can move on from this mess,” He responded, “But…”

“But, it doesn’t feel right, does it?” Minseok finished for him, “Chanyeol, you can’t give in to this – to him.”

Chanyeol looked up to find Minseok staring at him in sincerity. He nodded.

They were sat close enough for Minseok to take his hand, his thumb brushing over the juts of Chanyeol’s knuckles.

“After everything he’s done, after everything he has put you through, it would not be just for us to simply let it go and settle with money,” Minseok admitted, squeezing his hand, “Perhaps you would prefer to avoid trial, but, Chanyeol, I need you to believe I can and will destroy his defence.”

“Ah,” Jongdae’s voice came from the door, “It’s true, Minseok is a formidable trial lawyer.”

Jongdae slipped into the room, dropping into one of the free chairs with ease as Zitao trailed after him, appearing disgruntled to be removed from his desk of residence.

“You read the file?” Minseok started. He didn’t let go of Chanyeol’s hand and it was hard to miss the way Zitao glanced at him in curiosity.

“I read three lines,” Jongdae retorted, “I don’t suspect you’ll need much help for this case, Minnie, but my time is here if you need it.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Kyungsoo.”

Tao looked from Minseok to Jongdae with a cocked eyebrow.

Chanyeol narrowed his eyes at Zitao in thought.

“Ah,” Jongdae said again, “I am going to miss him destroying my ass in court.”

“Wait,” Chanyeol blinked in confusion, “What?”

“Kyungsoo and I, we never talk about work,” Jongdae began, his smile small, “And I would never ask him to put _us_ before work, but honestly, your father is a piece of shit and I’ve been trying to get him to transfer for quite some time.”

“But, you can’t just…” Chanyeol trailed off, “He wouldn’t just…”

“He isn’t as bad as you think he is,” Jongdae responded and Tao snorted, “Call Kyungsoo for me, Tao. Arrange a meeting.”

“I’m not _your_ secretary,” Zitao’s complaint was instant, “Why can’t you just-.”

“Because I asked _you_ ,” Jongdae interrupted, before pushing his chair away from the table to stand, “When my hands are not otherwise tied, Minnie, I’m free to help.”

Minseok nodded in thanks.

“Park Chanyeol,” Zitao started, peering at him curiously over the table, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“If it was Baekhyun, you know it’s untrustworthy, right?”

The blonde let out a short laugh, “As expected, though I don’t think he was wrong about certain other things.”

Chanyeol willed himself not to blush.

“Goodbye, Zitao,” Minseok said, though it sounded more like a _get out_. The latter rolled his eyes as he left.

“Did you two ever…?” Chanyeol questioned after the blonde was out of earshot.

“Are you concerned?” The lawyer returned.

“No,” Chanyeol answered, because he _was not_ , “Curious.”

Minseok hummed, “I was never interested, though he did introduce me to Baekhyun and consequently, you.”

“How does he know everyone I know?”

“And, Zitao has been taken for quite some time. He and Jongdae are rather inseparable.”

“Jongdae?” Chanyeol furrowed his eyebrows, “But, I thought Jongdae and Kyungsoo were… something weird.”

“I suppose you could say Zitao is the both of theirs.”

“Oh,” _Oh_ , “Theirs as in…”

“A relationship? Yes.”

Chanyeol bit the inside of his lip, “Am I yours?”

Minseok didn’t appear slightly surprised by the question, “Do you want to be?”

“You haven’t asked me.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Not to interrupt, but, our guest is here,” Luhan informed, appearing mildly amused, “I showed him to the conference room.”

“He arrived alone?” Minseok asked, his tone far less soft than a moment ago.

Luhan nodded, “He seems to be under the impression you’re willing to settle.”

“Would you prefer to remain out of the room?” Minseok asked Chanyeol, “If his client is absent, I don’t see reason why you should have to attend.”

The paralegal opened his mouth to protest, but Chanyeol spoke first.

“No,” Chanyeol answered, “I’d prefer to be there.”

He was unsure why, entirely – he could trust that Minseok would handle the meeting appropriately, but refusing to show his face merely felt like hiding. He’d hid for long enough and Minseok had been right, perhaps it was time for him to push back.

Minseok appeared less tense than Chanyeol felt, but there was a hard line to his lips and a hard set to his jaw that carried an air of intimidation. He could feel it as they walked across the soft carpeted floor and towards the conference room, Minseok’s shoulders set straight as he fixed his cufflinks. If it were not for the situation, Chanyeol would have preferred to spend longer staring at the lawyer.

“Wu,” Minseok greeted as Luhan held open the door to the room.

No formalities, no titles, no smile or nod of his head – a mere _Wu_. Chanyeol swallowed.

“Kim Xiumin,” Yifan responded, though he made no move to stand as his eyes wandered over to the younger, “Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol chose not to reply, his response deemed successful when Yifan narrowed his eyes.

“The last I checked, you were not a senior associate for any division concerning battery,” Minseok said as they both sat down across from Yifan, “Are you here to waste my time?”

“Coming from _you_ ,” Yifan sneered in retort, “Partner of a law firm yet representative of a defendant being _accused of battery_. Are you truly that desperate?”

“I’m unsure if it slipped your mind,” Minseok’s tone was cold, “But, I am the leading partner of this firm. It is _my_ decision as to which cases I see fit to take on, though not the same can be said for you.”

“Let me guess,” Yifan snorted as he sat back, his eyes glancing from Minseok to Chanyeol, “Pro-bono?”

“Tell me, does that aid your plight any further?”

“What, that you’re fucking the defendant?”

Chanyeol’s eyes widened.

“There is no prohibition concerning an attorney representing a significant other, _if_ that happened to be the circumstance,” Minseok was nonchalant, his eyes focussed on the man across the table, “I am not here to listen to trivial bullshit, Yifan – we have a no bullshit policy, here. I see that is not the case for your firm.”

Yifan’s jaw clenched shut, Minseok’s indifference putting the other in his place – reminding him of his insubstantial position, in Chanyeol’s opinion. It was clear Mr Park had sent Yifan as some form of intimidation, using their previous relationship to gain a foothold in negotiations. Park International had either incorrectly anticipated Minseok, or assumed a person of his position would not see to such a case.

“My firm sent forward some documents in advance,” Yifan restarted after a moment, “I-.”

“We will not reach a settlement, today,” Minseok cut the other off, “If that’s all you came here to discuss, I’m afraid this meeting will be substantially shorter. Perhaps you should have called ahead.”

“You haven’t listened to our terms,” Yifan then laughed, “This is hardly worth the effort of trial.”

“We are not willing to settle, Wu.”

“We?” The other ridiculed, glancing between the two, “Or _you_? I’m certain Chanyeol-.”

“You are in no position to speak for my client,” Minseok retorted, his indifference demeanour beginning to irritate the other attorney, “Is that all you wish to discuss?”

Yifan scoffed, gathering his papers silently – Chanyeol saw a vein jump on Yifan’s temple and suspected, if it had not been for professionality, far worse words would have been exchanged across the table.

“See you in court.”

Minseok opted not to bother with a farewell as Yifan stormed past Luhan – Chanyeol only felt himself deflate after the man’s tall frame had disappeared through the door, sinking into his seat with a sigh.

“Your secretary asked me to remind you about your lunchtime meeting,” Luhan informed, leaning against the door, “He’s busy bargaining with Kyungsoo, I didn’t ask for details.”

“Thank you, Luhan,” Minseok returned, the paralegal bowing his head and slipping from the room, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Chanyeol replied, frowning, “I’m-.”

“Not a kid, I know,” The lawyer then smiled, leaning over and placing a kiss to Chanyeol’s forehead, “Don’t feel inclined to stay, I have a feeling this meeting will be rather strenuous on time.”

Chanyeol nodded, words frozen on his tongue in consequence to the soft gesture as he watched the lawyer leave. Minseok would be missing his lunch hour, and then some, for a meeting that sounded none too pleasant – Chanyeol couldn’t help but consider the ways in which he could find himself useful.

Minseok had told him that Heechul was at his disposal, so it wasn’t long before he was back at the lawyer’s apartment and searching through drawers for things he was certain he’d seen the lawyer put away. He did stop for a moment to consider how comfortable he was here, literally going through another man’s things without a slither of guilt.

Opening the final drawer, Chanyeol let out an _aha_ when he found the collection of toys he’d been searching for – or more particularly, the few dark coloured plugs he’d had the pleasure of stumbling across before. Pocketing the choker Minseok had given him, he considered his options; he could prepare himself here, risking an awkward car journey with Heechul, or he could do it in Minseok’s empty office, risking an entire handful of possibilities.

The latter was exhilarating, the idea itself stirring Chanyeol’s arousal.

 

☽ ☾

 

Chanyeol had been attempting to gather the courage to face Zitao for approximately ten minutes, the blonde’s desk situated on the way to Minseok’s office. Zitao had picked up on his hesitation, grinning beautifully and placing his chin atop his hand, finding amusement in the way Chanyeol’s cheeks burned red and he lowered his voice.

“Zitao-.”

“Please,” Zitao cut him off, still grinning, “Call me Tao.”

“Tao,” Chanyeol tried again, trying not to meet the other’s eyes, “I was wondering… do you know how much longer Minseok’s meeting will run?”

“I predict his office will be empty for another 30 minutes, if that’s what you mean.”

Chanyeol nodded, “Does anyone else usually… drop by?”

“I’ll make sure it’s just you and Minnie,” Tao confirmed and Chanyeol hated how quick the other could catch onto things, “Until my shift finishes, at least.”

Closing Minseok’s office door behind him, Chanyeol took a moment to appreciate the lawyer’s office in its empty glory and guided his feet to Minseok’s chair – it already felt daring to sit in the firm’s partner’s chair without permission, what he was about to do even more so.

He placed his jacket over the seat of the chair to minimise mess, taking a deep breath and glancing towards the door one last time, before sliding his pants off. After securing the choker around his neck, his thumb absently brushing over the _KM_ initials sown into the material, he placed the plug and bottle of lube atop Minseok’s desk.

Spreading his legs and slicking up his fingers, Chanyeol reached below the desk to prepare himself. He bit his bottom lip as he slid the first finger in, starting a rhythm that aimed for efficiency where time was concerned. His other hand gripped the edge of Minseok’s desk when he added a second, an attempt to remain quiet so that the only sound filling the office was that of his quickened breathing.

If Tao failed to stop anyone from coming into the office, they would wander through to see Kim Xiumin’s client fingering himself open on their boss’s chair. The thought sent a jolt of sensation straight to his dick and he bit his lip harder, scissoring himself open enough to add a third and groaning low in his throat.

The toy he’d chosen wasn’t particularly large – small enough so that, _if_ , Minseok was to fuck him, Chanyeol would still feel a stretch. Making sure he’d added enough lube, he relaxed his lower half enough to slide the toy into himself. He remained still for a few moments further, waiting for his breathing to return to normal before pulling on his clothes to wait – it was difficult to remain nonchalant when he was halfway to hardness in his pants.

Just as he’d slid on his jacket, there was a noise at the door. Chanyeol sat back, attempting to appear casual as Minseok opened the door to his office. Even from here, Chanyeol could see the hard line of a frown between the lawyer’s eyebrows, the tenseness of his gait; perhaps coming back to the office wasn’t the worst idea, after all.

“Difficult meeting?” Chanyeol asked.

“Irritating,” Minseok agreed, his eyes darkening when they fell to the choker around Chanyeol’s neck marking the younger as _his_ , “A senior team unable to handle the simplest of subpoenas.”

“Sounds stressful,” Chanyeol replied, swallowing when the elder stalked forward, “I thought I’d try help.”

“Oh?” The lawyer questioned, tracing where the choker met Chanyeol’s neck with his finger.

“If you’d allow me.”

Minseok hooked his finger beneath the choker, using it to guide Chanyeol to his feet to push him against the desk, “You’re offering to relieve my stress, hm?”

“Yes,” Chanyeol murmured, the lawyer’s finger stopping just atop his windpipe, “Please.”

The first kiss was softer than Chanyeol had expected it would be, Minseok using the slow pace to lick into Chanyeol’s mouth to claim it with his tongue. Chanyeol didn’t attempt to push, merely kept up with the lawyer’s pace as hands pushed his jacket onto the desk behind. The hands continued across Chanyeol’s torso as they kissed, Minseok’s lips dipping to trace along his neck as his hands reached Chanyeol’s ass.

He squeezed, hard, the tight grip reminding Chanyeol all too well of the plug pressing inside of him and the younger groaned.

Minseok paused, his hands dipping beneath Chanyeol’s waistband and down his ass until his fingers found what they were looking for. The growl that followed made Chanyeol strain harder against his underwear, the lawyer then pushing him harder into the desk to leave a more bruising mark on Chanyeol’s neck.

“When?”

“Waiting for you,” Chanyeol gasped out when Minseok pushed his hip between his legs, “In here. On your chair.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Minseok breathed out, sliding his hand out of Chanyeol’s pants, “Did you come?”

Chanyeol shook his head, “I was waiting for you.”

Minseok kissed him a little harder, the air rushing from Chanyeol’s lungs as the elder’s hip added much-needed friction to his dick.

“What do you want?” Minseok asked him, tipping Chanyeol’s head up to take in the pretty picture of his swollen lips.

He’d already thought about his answer.

“Use me.”

The grip on Chanyeol’s face tightened for a split second as Minseok kissed him one last time, teeth nipping harshly at the younger’s bottom lip before he took a step back. He considered Chanyeol for a moment, eyes lingering on his lips before falling to the choker around his throat.

“On your knees.”

Chanyeol didn’t hesitate, trying not to whine when the movement moved the plug in his ass.

After sitting down on the chair in front of Chanyeol, Minseok pulled down the zipper of dress pants far too expensive to consider getting messy – and for some reason, this felt dirtier than the lawyer ridding himself of his pants completely.

His hands gripped the muscle of Minseok’s thighs when he took the lawyer into his mouth, Minseok’s tip dragging across the roof of his mouth. The elder tangled his fingers in Chanyeol’s hair, using his grip to situate Chanyeol beneath his desk; each movement backwards had Chanyeol whining around Minseok’s cock, the plug pushing against his walls but not quite _enough_.

Minseok moved his foot to press against Chanyeol’s straining cock and the younger let out a groan, loud enough for Minseok to tighten his grip on the brunette’s hair. His earlier preparation already had him riled up and Chanyeol wasn’t too sure how long he could even last like this.

“What if someone walked in to hear _that_?” His heel pressed harder against Chanyeol’s cock, causing him to choke down a whimper, “Hear you choking on my dick, grinding against my foot?”

As if to prove his point, Minseok pushed Chanyeol’s head down and the younger gagged, the tip hitting the back of his throat. He looked up at Minseok, a silent plea for _more_ and Minseok obliged, pushing Chanyeol back down until tears threatened to fall from his eyes. He was practically rutting against Minseok’s foot, feeling utterly filthy and incredibly aroused.

And, of course, someone was bound to enter the office at some point.

The grip on his hair slackened.

“Luhan,” Minseok said in greeting and Chanyeol screwed his eyes shut, “I thought you had left.”

“I had a draft to drop off,” Luhan replied, and Chanyeol was thankful it sounded like the other chose to linger around the door.

“Leave it on Tao’s desk.”

Minseok increased pressure on Chanyeol’s dick, who retaliated by sucking harder. The lawyer gripped his hair, _hard_ and Chanyeol had to fight himself to remain silent. Any noise would probably alert the other to what was happening, and Chanyeol hated the way his cock pulsed at the mere thought.

“Will do. Goodnight, boss,” was followed by the sound of the office door shutting.

Chanyeol keened when Minseok thrust up into his mouth, running his tongue along the underside until Minseok hissed and started fucking upwards. Completely unprepared, with a _shit kitten you look so good like this_ and a twist of Minseok’s foot, Chanyeol came, groaning hard around Minseok’s cock as he dirtied the inside of his underwear.

“Princess,” Minseok all but purred, tugging him up with the hand in his hair, “Did you just come?”

Skin flushing bright red from sheer embarrassment, Chanyeol did nothing more but stare at the lawyer sheepishly. The lawyer pulled him to stand, pushing him chest first onto the desk to tug down Chanyeol’s pants. His fingers found the plug, toying with it for a moment before he began to pump it in and out of Chanyeol’s ass – Chanyeol gasped, squirming, glad his earlier-discarded jacket was atop the desk.

Minseok remained pumping the toy, pressing kisses against crook of Chanyeol’s neck and murmuring _good boy_ , though Chanyeol had no fucking idea what he’d done to deserve the praise.

Without warning, Minseok slid the toy out and Chanyeol winced, hands gripping the desk when the head of Minseok’s cock pressed into him. Bent over the desk, his legs spread, a filthy picture in Chanyeol’s mind as Minseok filled him perfectly. He groaned against the desk, half-thinking about the inappropriateness of drooling against wood this expensive.

When Minseok gathered his hands to press against his lower back, fucking into him hard from behind, any consideration for the expensive desk became irrelevant. His hands immobilised and his cheek pressed against the wood, Chanyeol could feel his own dick twitching – he’d lost sense of his tongue already, moans growing in pitch as he spared a thought to anyone walking past the office.

Minseok was groaning low in his throat with each thrust and Chanyeol’s mind was a fucking mess of _please_ and _Minseok_ as the elder picked up his pace, all but ramming Chanyeol against the desk with a bruising grip on his wrists.

“F- _fuck, Minseok_ ,” Chanyeol’s words were a breathy mess, he made himself swallow before continuing, “Come in me, _please._ ”

“You’re so-,” _Thrust_ , “Beautiful like this, fuck, _Chanyeol_.”

“Please,” Chanyeol repeated in a whine, “Please, _please_ -.”

Chanyeol almost yelled when Minseok slammed against _that_ point, biting his lip hard enough to break the scab from his split lip; the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as Minseok thrust in to him, tense and stilling, spilling into Chanyeol with praises on his tongue.

They were both left panting in the seconds after, Chanyeol’s cock half-hard and sensitive against _Minseok’s fucking work desk_ as the elder littered kisses across Chanyeol’s wrists, a small apology for how hard he’d been gripping them.

His mind felt like cotton when Minseok turned him over, thumbs gently rubbing over the skin after he’d cleaned the blood from Chanyeol’s lip. He then leaned forward to kiss Chanyeol properly, and the younger let out an unconscious sigh of content.

He then dropped to his knees, and Chanyeol felt like he was fucking floating.

Kim fucking _Xiumin_ was on his knees, in his own office, swallowing down Park Chanyeol without hesitation. It took the last of Chanyeol’s remaining self-restraint to not thrust into the heat – and Minseok figured that out, pinning Chanyeol’s hips to his desk as he bobbed his head. Chanyeol moved a hand to his own mouth, afraid that he’d alert any late-night workers to their activities as he muffled his own moans.

Looking down, Chanyeol couldn’t help but gasp into his own hand – Minseok looked incredible, his lips stretched around Chanyeol’s cock and his hair askew from how hard he’d been fucking the younger. Raising the hand that wasn’t muffling his mouth, he gently ran his fingers through the lawyer’s hair, pushing it back and out of his eyes. Minseok looked up at him then, locking eyes as his tongue followed a certain vein that almost had Chanyeol caving in on himself.

The way Minseok looked up at him had Chanyeol’s heart beating tenfold in his chest.

Minseok said nothing when Chanyeol’s grip in his hair tightened, his breath stuttering and his moan a whisper when he came into the other’s mouth – who swallowed it down without prompting, standing back up to kiss Chanyeol deeply.

Chanyeol was unsure how long they remained there, Minseok stood between his open legs and painting his face in kisses as his mind took its time to come back to ground level. His fingers were gripping the hem of Minseok’s untucked shirt weakly, until eventually, he leaned forward to rest his head against the crook of the lawyer’s neck.

“You back with us, yet?” Minseok asked, hand raised to tilt Chanyeol’s head up.

“I think so,” Chanyeol responded, and Minseok kissed him again, and _fuck_ if Chanyeol’s heart wasn’t melting in his chest.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Kitten.”

 

☽ ☾

 

Going to work with Minseok that morning and leaving in the evening, albeit with certain happenings occurring some time in between, Chanyeol could almost feel the boundary lines between them thinning. It was inevitable that they’d return to the conversation they’d had that morning, having been interrupted by a mildly-amused paralegal – the unanswered question: _am I yours?_

Other than Minseok, Chanyeol appreciated that he probably had to return home at some point – to assure Sehun that, yes, he wasn’t dead and assure Baekhyun that, no, he wasn’t busy blindly running from anything he considered mildly scary. He’d received a handful of similarly worded text messages.

Right now, the rest felt irrelevant. It was late, the moon’s light keeping the edges of the clouds aware in the dark night sky – his hand in Minseok’s, his head resting against Minseok’s shoulder in the backseat of his car and words unneeded between them. Chanyeol supposed, if Minseok wanted to, he could restart their morning conversation. But, what if he didn’t want to?

Chanyeol was feeling a little too tired to care.

Deciding to look at their entwined fingers, he began, “Minseok.”

“Hm?” The lawyer responded, the hum deep in Chanyeol’s ear.

“I want to continue our conversation from this morning,” He thanked himself for holding out on the blush, “I mean, if you want to.”

A finger on his chin tilted his head up, their faces so close that they were sharing air.

“Park Chanyeol,” Minseok murmured, the ghost of his words tracing over Chanyeol’s lips, “Be _mine_.”

“Okay,” He replied, the butterflies in his stomach making him feel lighter, “I’m yours.”

“My boyfriend?” Minseok smirked just to watch Chanyeol fail to hide his blush, “I like that.”

He placed a small kiss on Chanyeol’s forehead, before the younger buried his head into Minseok’s shoulder – partly to hide the pinking blush, but also to hide his dumb fucking smile. Minseok squeezed his hand, and Chanyeol held on, the butterflies in his stomach entertaining his veins; in what universe did this happen, to _him_? For once, Chanyeol allowed himself this moment, allowed himself to breathe in the scent of a man he adored as he watched the world race by, untouchable through the glass of the car window.

“About time,” Heechul muttered from the driver’s seat.

 

☽ ☾

 

Sehun watched him pour milk over his cereal, eyes narrowed, glaring holes into Chanyeol’s back. Baekhyun, on the other hand, was busy typing rapidly on his phone and hiding it from view any time Sehun attempted to sneak a look. Chanyeol assumed it had something to do with a particular dance school exec, but he’d let Baekhyun tell them in his own time.

“So,” Chanyeol started as he turned around, spooning cereal into his mouth, “How was your weekend?”

“It’s Tuesday,” Baekhyun corrected, not looking up from his phone.

Sehun sighed, “Its Wednesday.”

“Whatever,” Baekhyun and Chanyeol said in unison.

“If it wasn’t for the blossoming hickey on your neck,” Sehun said, eyes dropping to Chanyeol’s neck to prove a point, “I’d assume you spent the rest of your time in jail, unable to answer your texts.”

“Firstly, mom, we left the police station together,” Chanyeol retorted, and Baekhyun looked up from his phone, eyes widening as he looked between them, “Secondly, I was busy with... legal things?”

“You guys got _arrested_?” Baekhyun then paused, “ _Without_ me?”

“Legal things,” Sehun replied, deadpan, “The last I see of you, we’re leaving a _police station_ , you’re beaten and bruised and then you _ignore_ my text messages?”

“Um,” Baekhyun was staring at Chanyeol, “What happened to your face? Did you get in a fight?”

“A lot… of things? Happened,” Chanyeol decided on, feeling a slither of guilt because yes, for once, Sehun was correct, “Minseok picked me up from the hospital and I just…”

“What happened?” Sehun asked, more softly this time.

Chanyeol focussed on eating his cereal for a moment.

“Did your dad do that to you?” Baekhyun questioned, eyebrows furrowing in the beginnings of anger.

“Baek, not now.”

“I went to the hospital,” Chanyeol retold, moving to sit across from Baek and Sehun, “He moved my mom onto their private residences, I can’t see her until the trial is over – because I’m not allowed anywhere near him.”

“Fuck,” Sehun voiced what Chanyeol was thinking, “Maybe… Minseok could look into it? Perhaps file an appeal?”

“You’re going to _court_?” Baekhyun’s tone was becoming increasingly hysteric and Sehun shot him a look, “Right, okay, tell me later.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol said in realisation, “I never thought about that.”

“And let me guess, you didn’t tell Minseok, so he couldn’t suggest it.”

Chanyeol shifted on his seat, “I didn’t mean to keep it to myself.”

Baekhyun watched him for a moment, before he said, “So, you finally let him be there for you, huh?”

“Um,” Chanyeol, once again, _was not_ blushing, “You could say that.”

“Well, I have a dinner date in an hour and I’m certainly not turning up in Sehun’s jeans,” Baekhyun earned a scowl from Sehun, before he shot a knowing look in Chanyeol’s direction as he stood, “Enjoy your evening, kids.”

Chanyeol finished his cereal, making idle conversation with Sehun as he cleaned up – Sehun told him about his week with Junmyeon, that even though Sehun had stopped receiving payments, Junmyeon still spoiled him at every possible moment. It reminded Chanyeol that he’d have to tell Minseok that, too; he didn’t want to be paid to date him.

It still hadn’t sunk in and Chanyeol felt like he was waiting for the second shoe to drop, for someone to entertain him with a _haha just kidding_ – everything that he’d felt, the tightening in his chest whenever Minseok as much as looked at him, it hadn’t been for nothing. Perhaps Chanyeol didn’t believe that, yet; didn’t believe that something like this could happen to him – the mere idea filled him with an almost giddy excitement, because _holy shit_ he was Minseok’s… And Minseok was his.

After everything that had happened, Minseok still wanted him. It felt a little dangerous to hold so much affection for one man.

“Hey,” Sehun said, quietly, after they’d lapsed into a silence, “You know what you’re doing, right?”

“Doing with what?”

“With Minseok,” Sehun clarified, “I’m not an idiot.”

“Oh. Um, not really.”

Sehun tutted, pulling him into a side hug, “Be careful. I care about you, like, a little bit.”

“A little bit,” Chanyeol repeated, shoving his best friend away, “I see how it is.”

“I’m trying to be nice!”

“I know,” His tone softened slightly, “And I’m thankful.”

“We’ve been through a lot, okay? I’m not ready to let just about anyone fuck with my best friend.”

Chanyeol snorted, “I’ll let him know you think so.”

 

☽ ☾

 

The rest of the week remained, quite frankly, uneventful. Chanyeol had always hoped court would be a little more riveting than a continuous flow of paperwork, but he’d recently seen enough subpoenas to last a life-time and he’d already dropped out of law school. He’d always hated the constant on-edge mindset that law school had brought, the competitiveness, the permanent need to out-perform your peers.

Minseok suited it well, Chanyeol realised, for he flourished in quite literally anything he set his mind to.

“Let’s get lunch,” Chanyeol suggested, sliding into Minseok’s office a minute into the firm’s lunch hour.

The lawyer looked up in slight surprise, “I thought you were finished here this morning.”

“I was,” He confirmed, sitting in one of the chairs across from Minseok’s desk, “I thought lunch with you was worth sticking around for.”

Minseok winced slightly, though his tone was warm with the younger’s sentiment, “I have a lot of work to do.”

“Is it work that’ll still be here when you return in an hour?” Chanyeol asked.

“Well, yes,” Minseok answered, cocking an eyebrow.

“Great, let’s go.”

“Chanyeol,” The lawyer sighed and Chanyeol was half certain he’d detected a hint of a whine, “I really do have much to do.”

The younger watched him for a moment, “You’ll catch that disease people get when they’re inside for too long.”

“Cabin fever,” Minseok informed, meeting Chanyeol’s eyes for a few moments. The younger didn’t blink, “Fine, you win. One hour.”

Chanyeol grinned.

They decided on a nearby restaurant that was a tad too formal for Chanyeol’s liking, though it was enough that he’d managed to drag the lawyer out of his office for the hour. The latter seemed a regular, as the waitress smiled brightly and showed them to a table without much hassle. Minseok didn’t even glance at a menu, ordering for them both as Chanyeol watched in hidden awe.

After the waiter brought over their _non-alcoholic, Chanyeol_ drinks, Chanyeol said, “When you picked me up from the hospital a couple of nights ago,” Minseok looked up in mild surprise, “I never did tell you why.”

“You’re not obligated to tell me everything,” The lawyer tried, “I admit I was a little frustrated that you thought you couldn’t confide in me.”

“It wasn’t _that_ , I didn’t want to burden you with-.”

“Chanyeol, it’s okay,” Minseok interrupted, though his tone was soft, “We can talk about _that_ when we have more time.”

“You knew my mom was in that hospital, right?” He waited for Minseok’s nod, “Well, Mr Park had her moved home. Their home. With private medical aid.”

Minseok’s eyebrows furrowed, “Moving her to where you’re not permitted to go.”

He nodded, distracting himself with a sip from his glass, “I was upset.”

“It will take me two seconds to file an appeal,” Minseok told him, though he still looked rather displeased, “All the court has to do is _ask_ your mother.”

Chanyeol snorted – Sehun had said that.

“Thank you,” Chanyeol said in earnest.

“I’ll do it as soon as I return to my office.”

The waitress appeared with their food, a range of meat and a handful of side servings and they both thanked her. Chanyeol was content to just eat for a few moments, the stress of the week hardly relevant as he chewed – and watched Minseok do the same, half certain the lawyer skipped out on lunch some days for meetings and the such. He’d drop by with food himself, if he had to.

“I also, um, wanted to talk to you about something.”

Minseok hummed, “You know you don’t need my approval to just talk about something?”

Chanyeol swallowed his food, cheeks dusted lightly pink, “You don’t have to… pay me… anymore?”

“What if I wanted to?” Minseok asked in a beat, taking another chunk of meat.

The younger stared at him, a little wide-eyed, “Wouldn’t it be… weird? I mean we’re…” _blush_ , “Y’know?”

Minseok was smiling, albeit small and soft, “If you don’t like it, you could always put it in a separate account for emergencies. Or in case, you know, the future isn’t what we want it to be.”

 _In case we break up_ , Chanyeol read between the lines.

“You can’t just pay me, for nothing,” Chanyeol complained, pushing rice around with his chopsticks.

“You’re busy doing what you want to do with your music, Chanyeol,” Minseok chewed for a moment, before continuing, “Between that and a court case, it’s not like you have time to work doing something you’d be happy doing. Allow me to do this, for you.”

Chanyeol stared at him, before sighing, “Fine. But, reduce it – just enough to cover rent. That’s it.”

He couldn’t believe he was negotiating with his boyfriend concerning the subject of paying him to do nothing. Despite his complaints, he was grateful – Minseok was right, he was busy setting up a portfolio and composing for small companies on freelance, something he wouldn’t be able to do if he worked elsewhere. There was also the fact that this apartment was a little pricier than the last. Thanks to Sehun.

“Fine,” Minseok copied, “But, I’m allowed to buy you what I please.”

“You mean spoil me,” He raised an eyebrow.

Minseok shrugged, “You say spoil, I say buying beautiful things for my beautiful boyfriend.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help it; he smiled for the rest of the lunch hour.

 


	8. Chapter 8

It was almost incredible how fast Minseok worked – it had taken no more than the weekend for the lawyer to appeal and reinstate guidelines concerning Chanyeol’s contact with his mother, and by the Monday, Chanyeol had been granted permission to visit her. Although cliché, there were no words Chanyeol could say to tell Minseok how thankful he was for everything. They had somehow transformed from a purely pleasure based business relationship to something much more – sure, they’d cared for each other before, but… well, Chanyeol wasn’t quite sure how to describe the euphoria in his chest when Minseok pulled him close, the happiness undeniable in both of their eyes.

So perhaps sometimes he felt like a charity case, felt a little unworthy, an idealist in a world surrounded by everything real – but, for once, he preferred to ignore those thoughts, to focus instead on the things he had instead of worrying about when they would be gone.

“I could come with you,” Minseok said as they pulled into the driveway of his parent’s private estate.

The journey had been long, almost an entire city away, yet Minseok had insisted on being the one to drive Chanyeol. He was certain Minseok had far more important things to do, Chanyeol had stated as much, but one look from the lawyer and a _let me do this for you_ had him yielding in a record breaking time.

“I won’t be long,” Chanyeol replied instead, “I don’t want to involve her in any of this.”

Minseok’s hand shifted on the steering wheel, “She might be the best person for us to consider, in this case.”

“And risk worsening her condition? I really don’t want to involve her in this, Minseok.”

The other didn’t say anything, instead averted his attention to parking the car. They both climbed out of the car, Chanyeol’s movements less confident as he allowed his eyes to roam across the expanse of his childhood – he’d grown up here, studied here, played with Sehun when they were young, here; his life as he knew it had come to an end, here.

He felt a warm hand slide into his own and he blinked, as though only just remembering why they were here. Not all his memories here were bad, a lot of them were, but he chose to remember the days he’d spent fucking around with Sehun rather than remembering how everything he’d known had come apart beneath his feet.

“Let’s not stay here for long,” Chanyeol informed as they reached the front door.

Minseok raised their entwined hands to press a kiss to Chanyeol’s knuckles, “I’ll stay by the car, I have a few calls to make.”

Chanyeol winced, “I forgot you’re supposed to be working, not driving me across the fucking city-.”

“Chanyeol,” Minseok interrupted, his tone almost chastising, “Shut up. Text me if you need me.”

“Sir, yes sir,” He nodded in response, Minseok leaving him with a roll of his eyes.

Thankfully, he was shown to his mother’s room – he’d much rather avoid permission to travel through these corridors alone, far too many distantly familiar rooms and paintings and things that sank like lead to the bottom of his stomach. Things he would prefer not to think about.

He supposed it was better for his mom here, in familiarity, by walls coated in something other than a sickly white, by surroundings offering comfort. She was asleep when he first sat down, but stirred briefly until her eyes opened – he felt a little guilty at interrupting her rest, but he wouldn’t be staying for long and he had wanted to make sure she was doing okay.

She smiled tiredly when she realised it was him.

“It must be awful stuck inside,” Chanyeol began, glancing around the room.

“It’s not too bad,” Her voice was wispy, as though the simple syllables cost an effort she didn’t have, “Not much different from being stuck in an office.”

“Did he tell you…” He trailed off, unsure how to explain to his mother that no, he hadn’t assaulted his father.

“He did.”

“I didn’t just… attack him,” Chanyeol tried to clarify, finding it a little difficult to look her in the eye, “He hit me first, mom.”

His mom paused for a moment, and Chanyeol looked back to see her troubled, “This isn’t right.”

“I know,” Chanyeol took her hand gently, half afraid it would break in his larger hands, “But, Minseok is representing me.”

“Oh, I told you he must be serious about you,” Her small smile was smug.

“Yeah,” His reply was quiet, “I suppose he is.”

“I’m glad you’re no longer running from it,” She continued, sounding far too similar to Baekhyun for Chanyeol’s comfort, “Your room is untouched, you know.”

“It was rather lifeless, wasn’t it?” Chanyeol responded, remembering the blandness, “I could hardly be myself, here.”

“I thought we were doing what was best for you,” His mom said, and Chanyeol almost wished he hadn’t mentioned it, “It took me far longer than it would’ve any good mother to realise I was smothering you, and your father far worse.”

“It’s okay,” He tried, trying to calm the way his mom was working herself up, “I forgave you.”

She coughed for a moment, the few following breaths requiring energy, “I tried to make your father drop this.”

“It’s okay,” He repeated, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We are not speaking, right now,” Her hoarse reply made Chanyeol glance up in surprise, “I told him, if he refused to drop this case against our son, then I refused to acknowledge him as my husband.”

“Mom,” Chanyeol kept his voice quiet, “Please don’t.”

She appeared a little worse than before – a little thinner, a little paler, her coughing a little rougher, and it caused an ache somewhere in Chanyeol’s chest. He didn’t want her fighting things for him, he wanted her to focus on herself… It was clear she had little energy to stand, the last thing Chanyeol wanted was a worsening in her condition on the account of him.

“I’m tired of remaining silent when he’s wrong, when he’s being himself,” She gave Chanyeol’s hand a weak squeeze, “I realise now that this is something I should have done long ago.”

“You’re too sick to take part in this, mom,” He took her hand between the both of his, “Please be careful.”

“I’m cleaning my mess, ‘Yeol, before it’s too late,” She continued, and Chanyeol could feel the swell of his emotions in his stomach, “Before I’m gone, and all you remember of me is a heartless woman who sat by and did nothing as-.”

“Mom, please stop,” Chanyeol interrupted, realising her hand had started to shake between his own, “It’s okay, I know. I love you.”

“I cannot believe I did the things I did,” She said, regardless, Chanyeol looking away as her eyes teared up, “You deserve so much better. You deserved loving parents who should’ve raised you with heart and not by force, who listened to what you wanted instead of forcing you to do what we had planned.”

Chanyeol’s voice was weak as he tried, “Mom.”

“You deserved parents who accepted you for who you were, for who you _are_ , for who you love,” She withdrew her hand to wipe at the tears Chanyeol hadn’t realised were dripping down his own cheeks, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Let me make this right.”

He stood slowly, leaning over her frame on the bed to place a light kiss on her cheek – he was afraid to hug her small figure, not wanting to risk any pain he could cause. He told her it was okay, again, that he was happy, that these things had already happened and could no longer be changed – and called for the nurse when her coughing fit turned into one of pain and blood.

They talked about light subjects until she fell asleep, realising that a mere half hour had been enough time to exhaust her, to bring on a coughing fit so severe he’d been a little afraid.

Chanyeol opted to let himself out, the fresh air a blessing on his face. He’d checked his appearance before he left, hardly wanting to return to Minseok with eyes ugly and swollen from tears he’d been unable to keep in – the lawyer remained by his car, leaning against the hood with his phone pressed against his face and his professional blank face, which probably would’ve been a scowl on anyone else.

Minseok didn’t register his arrival until he was an arm’s length away, his cold façade breaking into a small smile. Chanyeol merely hugged him, wrapping his arms around the expensive suit and pressing his nose into the other’s neck to breathe a sigh. With his free hand, Minseok rubbed small half circles into the younger’s hip as he talked into his phone.

The lawyer was still working, and Chanyeol had decided his boyfriend had missed enough work because of himself. He reached into the inside of Minseok’s suit blazer, his fingers dipping into the pockets one by one until he found the car keys he was searching for. He pulled away and held the keys up, Minseok cocking an eyebrow at him as Chanyeol nudged him towards the passenger seat.

It was odd to see Minseok in the passenger seat, he was always either in the driver’s seat or sat in the back if Heechul was driving them. He also sent Chanyeol an odd look, a small crease between his eyebrows as he buckled his seatbelt and Chanyeol started the engine (only after adjusting the seat to give his long legs space to breathe). He wasn’t an awful driver, he’d passed his test – he’d never had need for a car, not when Baekhyun jumped at the opportunity of speeding his best friends halfway to heart problems.

Chanyeol didn’t feel himself relax until the estate was no longer visible in the wing mirror, and after that it didn’t take him long to actually enjoy driving the car. It was expensive, it was Minseok’s and it handled beautifully. He rarely cared about cars, but there was something warm to be found in the comfort of Minseok working in the passenger seat as he drove – the lawyer had taken out his laptop, typing away with one hand as he spoke in quiet tones to his phone. He watched his boyfriend struggle for a few moments as he waited for the lights to change, eventually laughing and handing Minseok his earphones with the microphone. He received a thankful glance in return.

The two sounds within the car remained Minseok’s quiet voice and the hum of the engine, and Chanyeol found it to be almost therapeutic – his mind focussed solely on the road ahead and the soft merging of sounds.

It took Minseok’s hand on his thigh to realise the lawyer had spoken to him.

“I said,” Minseok began, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into Chanyeol’s thigh, “It’s not uncommon for the accused to be made to take the witness stand.”

“Ah,” Chanyeol let out, “I forgot.”

“Jongdae and I were just discussing it,” Minseok motioned to his phone, on which Jongdae was currently on loud speaker, “We want to put you through a fake trial, of sorts.”

“A fake trial?”

Minseok hummed as an affirmative, “The witness stand can be a difficult place to be – and with Yifan working beneath P.I to question you, I doubt he’s going to be… very nice.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help his bitter laugh, “You mean, he’s going to be a dick.”

“ _Exactly,_ ” Jongdae’s voice came through Minseok’s phone’s speaker, “ _The biggest dick._ ”

“Some lawyers prefer to drill the witness with difficult questions until they break, slip up, or respond emotionally in some way that causes the jury to doubt their claim,” Minseok informed, ignoring his firm partner.

“So, what? You want to prepare me for that?”

“Yes,” Minseok confirmed, “Between Jongdae and I, I believe we can cover almost anything Wu could ask.”

“I’ll do it,” Chanyeol agreed, still enjoying the warm of Minseok’s hand on his thigh.

“ _That’s great_ ,” Jongdae added, sounding a little too enthusiastic, “ _It’s always fun to host a fake trial. Should we say, tonight? Bring food._ ”

Minseok hung up on the other man without replying.

The lawyer took over the driving when they stopped to buy food, his eyebrow cocked in Chanyeol’s direction when he had to adjust the chair. Chanyeol wasn’t sure why he blushed – perhaps remembering the fact that his height factored into Minseok’s ability to reduce him into someone so small – and instead focussed on placing the food onto the backseat, hoping Minseok would take into consideration its well-being as they drove.

It wasn’t until they entered an empty lobby, manned by a sole security guard, that Chanyeol realised the time – realised that most workers had headed home for the day, yet here Minseok was, the both of them heading to the upper floors to meet Jongdae.

They’d bought extra food in case one of their secretaries had opted to stay for overtime, their suspicions deemed correct when they entered the conference room to find Zitao’s feet kicked up onto Jongdae’s lap.

Minseok waited until they were all happily eating before bringing up the fake trial.

“Chanyeol,” His voice was quiet, unheard by the bickering two across the table, “You know that we will not be playing nice, I assume?”

“I figured.”

“You need to control yourself as though this it’s a real trial,” Minseok continued, “And remember that we’re not trying to attack you – this is basic preparation.”

“I know,” Chanyeol confirmed, though he could feel his nerves rise beneath his skin.

“It might get a little scary,” Jongdae added from where he sat, “The real trial will be scarier. Wu will be scarier.”

“So, y’know,” Zitao said as he cleared the table, “Suck it up.”

Jongdae slapped the back of the blonde’s head lightly as he walked past.

They set up the room so that Chanyeol sat at one end, a sole desk in front of him and the rest of the tables moved out of the way to give the lawyers roaming space. It was rather intimidating, but Chanyeol had suspected that was the intent – and Tao was right, he’d have to suck it up, especially if the real trial was going to be worse.

“Tao,” Jongdae started as he quickly scanned the papers in his hand, “You be the judge.”

“I’m literally a secretary.”

“And now you’re _literally_ a judge,” Jongdae replied, pushing the blonde to sit on the only remaining chair.

It was daunting, at first – Jongdae had been the one to start, his transition into his lawyer façade interesting to watch; from the raised eyebrows of Zitao, Chanyeol assumed the secretary agreed. The questions started off easy, slow, _how was your relationship with your father?_ It felt like a warm up and Chanyeol couldn’t help the way his eyes would travel back to Minseok.

“Would you say you held a lot of anger towards your father?” Minseok asked, eventually.

Chanyeol blinked, because sure, he’d always found Minseok attractive, but Minseok wearing his suit and leaning against a discarded table with his hardened gaze focussed on Chanyeol was _fucking hot_. It was partially scary and under any other circumstance, Chanyeol _would_ feel attacked; but this was a fake trial and Minseok would soon be replaced by Yifan in the halls of the court.

“Yes,” Chanyeol answered.

“Is that why you assaulted him?”

“I didn’t assault him.”

“But it would make sense, wouldn’t it?” Minseok had pushed himself to stand as he spoke, “In your opinion, this man destroyed your life, forced you to conform to his idea of a perfect son. Is that why you assaulted him?”

Chanyeol couldn’t help his frown, “I didn’t-.”

“Anyone can understand the anger of a child, Chanyeol,” Minseok interrupted, stalking closer, “When you eventually saw him, all that anger, all that hatred, all those memories of your former self, they came rushing back – and you lashed out, the exertion the only thing to make you feel better.”

“No,” Chanyeol tried, “That’s not what happened, he-.”

“Is it because he was never accepting of who you are?”

Chanyeol had to bite the inside of his cheek to halt his bitter reply, breathing a moment, before he said, “I have never cared what that man thinks of me.”

“Was it because, perhaps, he ruined the first good thing you had?” Minseok asked, and Chanyeol knew he was asking in place of Yifan.

Because Yifan knew these things, would probably ask these things, yet Chanyeol couldn’t help the way his hands clenched at his sides. Yes, his father had taken away the first good thing he’d had, it might not have been the _best_ thing, but Yifan would know this. He breathed in slowly through his nose, knowing there was no way he would allow Yifan to get the better of him in trial.

“He hit me first,” Chanyeol decided to reply after a few seconds, “We then scuffled.”

“Was it easy to hit him?” Minseok returned, “Did it feel good? Was it everything you had imagined it would be?”

“No,” He replied, perhaps a little too honestly, “I felt sick, I felt like the next time I saw him would be too soon, I felt like that man was not my father, instead merely a man I shared genetics with.”

Minseok paused, seemingly impressed, his eyes glancing over to Jongdae for a moment. Jongdae shrugged.

“Objection,” Tao cut in, though no-one had been speaking.

Jongdae sighed, “You’re a judge, you don’t call that.”

“I just wanna know, what’s the point here?” Tao asked, “Chanyeol is doing a tremendously good job at self-control and honestly I’m getting bored.”

“We do seem to have hit a wall,” Jongdae agreed, and Minseok merely returned to leaning against the discarded table.

“So,” Jongdae began with a tone that sounded suspicious, “I may, or may not, have invited Kyungsoo.”

Minseok cocked an eyebrow – Chanyeol’s eyes widened.

“Is that a good idea?” Chanyeol questioned, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

“Don’t be mad,” Jongdae sent a literal _pout_ in Minseok’s direction, “He’s settling in well, here, considering he just quit the big bad enemy firm.”

“Well,” Minseok considered aloud, looking over to Chanyeol, “He is ex-P.I, he knows their systems better than any of us. But, his recent affiliation means he won’t be allowed in the court room with us. Are you okay with this?”

Chanyeol’s head nodded without his consent.

His previous involvement with Kyungsoo had never been particularly unpleasant – he remembered the other, briefly, always working with his parents, somehow present in Chanyeol’s young life. He’d neglected to think about who he’d left behind, but those thoughts had come rushing back the day Kyungsoo had appeared at his door, a letter from his mother in hand.

Kyungsoo remained as Chanyeol remembered him – distant, endlessly professional and Chanyeol had to wonder how this man had stumbled into a relationship with someone like Jongdae. And Tao.

“It would be best if we were left alone,” Kyungsoo informed after the greetings, nodding towards the other three.

Minseok looked towards Chanyeol for permission and he nodded – the lawyer gave his shoulder a small squeeze on his way out of the room. It felt a little daunting to be the only one left with someone from his past.

“Hello, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo’s voice was as deep as he remembered.

 _Wow, you’re still scary huh_ was on the tip of Chanyeol’s tongue, before he cleared his throat to reply, “Hi.”

“I suppose I should clear a few things up,” Kyungsoo began, looking through the papers Jongdae had left behind, “I worked predominantly for your mother, I _respect_ your mother, even if I preferred to avoid affiliation with her husband. She had me deliver the letter to you.”

Chanyeol had never looked at it that way, “Was it easy for you to leave?”

“I had been planning my resignation ever since I learned that your mother would be leaving,” Kyungsoo answered, “Jongdae just happened to be persuasive enough to speed up my decision.”

He nodded, unsure of what else to say – unsure he wanted to think about the ways in which Jongdae had been persuasive.

“I’m not here to be your enemy, I’m here to help.”

“Why?” Chanyeol couldn’t help but ask. He needed to know why the latter would even bother trying to help him, especially after so long.

“Because I want to, because Jongdae asked me to,” Kyungsoo seemed to hesitate, before meeting Chanyeol’s eyes, “Because your mother asked me to.”

Chanyeol frowned, “She shouldn’t worry herself with this.”

“If I have learned anything, it’s that she is stubborn,” Kyungsoo offered a small smile, “Shall we begin?”

Taking a deep breath, Chanyeol nodded.

 

☽ ☾

 

As Minseok had said, Kyungsoo knew Park International better than any of them. His interrogation had been quick, hardly giving Chanyeol time to think between answers – Chanyeol supposed it was a good technique, people tended to be more believable if they were given time to think reasonably. Chanyeol had slipped up a few times, though held onto Minseok’s words that the opposition were trying to strike an emotional raise from him.

They remained within the room for almost an hour, though to Chanyeol time seemed to drag on for far longer. He knew it was necessary, he knew they couldn’t allow Yifan to get the upper hand merely because Chanyeol failed to keep a lid on his emotions.

His anger had almost flared when Kyungsoo’s attention had shifted to Minseok, asking about his relationship with _Mr Kim_ , if it was a reason behind his anger towards his father. Chanyeol chose instead to focus on how tired he was with it all, with his father, with the bullshit court case. It had gone better than he’d expected.

In the end, the entire meeting had been okay – he’d always assumed any run in with Kyungsoo would be memorably distasteful. The latter had left with Jongdae and Tao, and Chanyeol didn’t even try to consider their dynamics.

Minseok still had work to finish and Chanyeol had also been leaving, before realising the light was still on in Junmyeon’s office. Chanyeol looked down to the bag of leftovers in his hand and changed direction for the other’s office.

“Hey,” He said lightly, so that he wouldn’t startle the other.

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon said in realisation, his voice deeper with the time of night, “How was the fake trial?”

“It was okay,” Chanyeol answered, before holding up the bag of food, “Hungry?”

Halfway through his conversation with Junmyeon, he glanced to the clock on a wall with a small frown. It was almost ten in the evening – how had Minseok ever made time for him, before? The senior associates of the firm never seemed to leave.

“Do you have much left to do?” Chanyeol asked as Junmyeon typed, merely out of curiosity.

“Not too much,” Junmyeon replied, “I’m actually drafting an inquisition relating to your trial.”

“Oh?”

“Just a consideration concerning your mother, what help she may be able to provide.”

Chanyeol paused, half-certain his heart had just stopped in his chest, “My mom? What is there to even consider?”

Junmyeon stopped typing, glancing at Chanyeol over the top of his computer screen, “We might put her on the witness stand?”

“I told Minseok I didn’t want her involved with this.”

Multiple times, for that matter – his mother’s condition wasn’t stable enough for them to question her in a fucking court room, especially considering the fact they’d literally just spent hours hammering Chanyeol with questions, particularly because the witness stand was a stressful place to be. His mother might not be able to handle that stress, not with her illness, not with her constant exhaustion.

“Well,” Junmyeon continued, pursing his lips for a moment, “Minseok was the one to give us permission to go forward with this.”

Chanyeol stood, trying to remember the ways in which he’d spent the last couple of hours controlling his anger. He wouldn’t say he stormed into Minseok’s office, particularly, more so that he entered without knocking, a scowl he couldn’t shake etched onto his face – he’d _told_ Minseok that very afternoon that he didn’t want his mom involved in this. He wouldn’t risk it. Not when he’d seen her struggle to string a few sentences together without falling into a coughing fit.

“I told you I didn’t want her involved in this,” Chanyeol managed to keep his voice calm, a surprising feat considering the feeling of betrayal sinking in his chest.

Minseok slid off his glasses, looking up from a document in his hands, “Sometimes, I have to think like a lawyer – and right now, I am your lawyer.”

“So, what? You completely disregard the one thing I asked of you?” Chanyeol sunk into the armchair, exasperated, “You fucking told me the witness stand was a difficult place to be, and you want to put my _sick_ mother on it?”

“She’s essential to our defence, Chanyeol,” Minseok responded, rubbing the area of his nose where his glasses had been sat, “If she was to come forward about everything, all of the issues from years ago-.”

“I don’t care, Minseok,” Chanyeol interrupted, “I told you, multiple times, I wouldn’t risk this. I asked this one thing of you, and you… went behind my back and-.”

“Giving Junmyeon the green flag is hardly going behind your back.”

He let out a frustrated sigh – a part of him felt that he was being unfair, Minseok had taken his case pro-bono, for _free_ , when it would cost any other person literal thousands for a mere week of this man’s time. But at the same time, he’d asked Minseok not to involve her in this, shouldn’t Minseok at least respect that? Or even consult him before he gave Junmyeon the go-ahead?

“That’s not the point,” Chanyeol responded, defeatedly.

Minseok appeared to hesitate for a split second, “I think it’s for the best, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol stared at the lawyer for a few moments, trying to balance his thoughts without bias. Realistically, Minseok was right, but he’d done exactly what Chanyeol had said he didn’t want to do and… he was tired. Chanyeol was just tired.

“Let me talk to her, first,” Chanyeol decided, hardly happy with himself, “I don’t want lawyers stressing her further.”

“You make it sound like we’re heartless,” Minseok tried to joke.

Chanyeol shot the lawyer a look as he left and Minseok sighed.

He was unsure where he intended to go – it was too late to visit his mom and he didn’t want to risk waking her if he called. It could wait until tomorrow, though Chanyeol already knew she would agree. She’d made it clear she wanted to help, yet Chanyeol just wanted her to rest. He hadn’t wanted to drag her into an ugly court case at the fault of family.

It was hardly surprising that he found himself back at the lawyer’s apartment; perhaps he needed the comfort, the familiarity, the smell. It would take some time for his new apartment to feel like home and he hesitated to believe how homely Minseok’s apartment felt – they hadn’t known each other _that_ long, this was not something he should’ve been feeling.

Chanyeol had a talent in over-thinking.

What little frustration he felt towards Minseok was not enough to keep himself away, it seemed, as he allowed his eyes to follow the inside of the apartment. The first time he’d seen it, he’d been blown away, had felt awe and disbelief – and now he felt a warmth, a familiarity in the softness of the carpet beneath his feet and the skyline of a dark city through the windows.

He sat himself down in front of the window where he’d sat once before, legs crossed beneath him as he allowed himself to breathe. From somehow crying that afternoon with his mother, and the energy of remaining calm through the fake trial, but also his feeling of disappointment with Minseok and the fact he had a trial to attend… He was tired, it was mentally tiring and he wanted to stop thinking.

His anger at Minseok was partially misplaced, he was more frustrated by the thought that Minseok was _right_ , that they would have to drag his mother into this purely due to his father’s unfathomable agenda. Conceivably, part of the frustration came from the fact he knew she would agree, because he asked – and useless, he felt useless, her health was deteriorating and he could do nothing but watch, merely hold her hand as she coughed out her lungs. And Minseok. Minseok was doing all of this for him, investing so much time into him, and Chanyeol would never be able to pay him back. Nothing he did would balance out how much he owed Minseok, even metaphorically – how much Minseok had been there for him when he hadn’t been able to keep himself together like anybody else.

How worthless part of him felt, how his mother might die without ever being proud of her only son. He’d never finished college, he’d never tried to restart college, he hardly had a prestigious job and if it wasn’t for Minseok he’d be struggling to pay his fucking rent. How he’d never done anything for her to be proud of him.

He pushed himself to stand, favouring his ability to compose music over his ability to over-think.

Chanyeol had left both his guitar and laptop here before Minseok had offered to drive him to visit his mother. He hauled them both over to his favoured spot in front of the window, bringing with him a polaroid camera he’d found in his search for paper. He wondered what the camera had been used to picture, what memories Minseok had enjoyed enough to capture – wondered why he’d never seen any polaroid pictures laying around the apartment.

He took a picture of the outside world as he waited for his laptop to start up, wondering how old the dusty item in his hands truly was. The picture came rolling from the slit in the top of the camera and Chanyeol set it aside to develop.

His portfolio was improving, growing in content that Chanyeol could be proud of. His commissions didn’t bring in a sufficient amount of money, he merely did it to improve his reputation and put his name out there. Money didn’t play a predominant role in Chanyeol’s will to make music, it was a by-product of something he could focus on, allow his mind to lose itself in.

It was rare that his mind thought much as he worked, and perhaps that played reason to his love for the art. To compose, not think, to listen to what he’d made the following day completely unaware of the routes his mind had taken. It was easy to forget if he was focussing on a string of chords, a choice of words or a progression of minors that ignited a particular satisfaction in his heart.

Focussed on his laptop screen burning pixels into his retinas, Chanyeol all but jumped when Minseok’s voice broke a momentary silence.

“Why are you still awake?”

Chanyeol glanced down to the clock on his laptop screen before he closed it over, “I was thinking.”

“At 1am?” Minseok sounded partially sceptical.

“I have a lot on my mind,” Chanyeol didn’t have the energy to be bitter, merely honest.

Minseok’s voice sounded closer, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Have you been home?”

“No.”

The lawyer sighed, moving closer to Chanyeol’s seated form before sitting behind him – he then pulled the younger back against his chest, resting his chin atop Chanyeol’s shoulder and Chanyeol allowed it to happen, allowed the feeling of Minseok’s breath on his skin to slow his own breathing.

“I’m sorry,” Minseok apologised, pressing a gentle kiss to Chanyeol’s neck.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you say that,” Chanyeol couldn’t help but reply, feeling Minseok’s frown against his neck, “You tend to apologise in ways other than words.”

“I didn’t realise you were observing me that much.”

“You’re worth observing,” Chanyeol muttered, more to himself.

Minseok’s arms tightened around his stomach as he glanced down to the mess of papers in Chanyeol’s lap, “What are you working on?”

“A song,” Chanyeol answered, shuffling the papers into a nice pile atop his laptop.

“It’s 1am.”

“You weren’t here,” Chanyeol confessed, now toying with the polaroid camera, “I couldn’t sleep.”

Another soft kiss was pressed against his neck.

Chanyeol turned the camera around, facing it towards himself and clicking the capture button. The sound of the shutter fluttering brought a chuckle from Minseok, and Chanyeol opted to leave the pre-developed photo near the papers on his laptop.

“Come on,” Minseok murmured quietly, “Let’s get you to bed.”

At some point, Chanyeol wasn’t quite sure when, they fell into bed together. Minseok’s touches were more gentle than usual, his kisses a lot less sparse and pressed across every inch of Chanyeol his lips could reach. It didn’t take long for Minseok to have Chanyeol on his back, his clothes gone as he took his time tracing his lips down Chanyeol’s chest.

They moved slow, everything a little gentler like Minseok was trying to show his appreciation through mere touches.

Chanyeol’s gasp was quiet when Minseok’s tongue lapped across his nipple, his back arching as Minseok trailed a hand down his side and to his hip. When Minseok wrapped a hand around him, coaxing him to hardness, he muted Chanyeol’s moans with his lips until Chanyeol couldn’t help but buck up into every touch.

“Why are you-,” Chanyeol gasped, a hand reaching out to pull at Minseok’s shirt, “Still wearing clothes?”

“I was admiring you,” Minseok murmured, his lips pressing kisses along Chanyeol’s jaw, “Let me admire you.”

It wasn’t a question, but Chanyeol nodded anyway, biting his lip when Minseok’s lips found their favourite place to leave marks. His hands gripped Minseok’s shirt as the lawyer continued to stroke him and, of course, Chanyeol wanted more – he wanted everything Minseok had to offer.

Minseok pressed his body against Chanyeol’s, their hips pushed flush together and Chanyeol groaned at the friction of his dick against Minseok’s suit. He momentarily wondered how many suits of Minseok’s he’d ruined.

The lawyer had moved onto marking Chanyeol’s chest, taking his time as though he didn’t want to leave an inch of skin untouched.

Chanyeol was rocking his hips up against the heat above him, completely beneath the mercy of the lips above him. When Minseok looked back up at him, his lips were red and swollen and Chanyeol couldn’t help the quiet whine in his throat.

“What do you want, Kitten?”

“You,” Chanyeol knew his reply wasn’t entirely sensical, “Please.”

Minseok understood, anyway, leaning up to kiss Chanyeol once more before he rid himself of his own clothes. The first press of a slick finger against his entrance was anticipated, yet Chanyeol gasped anyway, his legs falling open wider for Minseok to fit between. Minseok took his time, stretching Chanyeol slowly as he kissed the inside of Chanyeol’s thighs softly.

The gentleness was unfamiliar to Chanyeol, it brought something much deeper than arousal to the blood beating through his veins.

“Minseok,” Chanyeol found it hard to raise his voice above a whisper at the third finger, “I’m ready.”

The other continued for a few more moments, before using the lube remaining on his hand to slick his own cock. He first leaned over Chanyeol, his hands placed at either side of Chanyeol’s head as he pushed in – Chanyeol stared up, his own mouth hanging open in a silent gasp as he watched the slightest scrunch of Minseok’s eyes.

He waited until Minseok bottomed out, most of the lawyer’s weight pinning him to the bed, before wrapping his legs around the other’s waist.

Minseok leaned down to hover his lips over Chanyeol’s, not kissing him, merely breathing with him. Chanyeol leaned up to press his lips against his boyfriend’s, murmuring _I’m ready_ into the other’s mouth.

Just as everything else had been that evening, Minseok’s pulled out to start a rhythm just as slow. Chanyeol held on to Minseok’s back, feeling the shift of muscles with each thrust the lawyer made – it felt far more sensual like this, each drag of Minseok’s cock against his walls causing him to moan out without control.

Chanyeol tightened his legs around Minseok’s waist, silently urging him to go even the slightest bit faster – Minseok surprised him with a hard thrust and Chanyeol arched his back, neck bared as Minseok picked up the pace.

Lips found his exposed neck and Chanyeol’s mind felt like a repeated mess of pleas and pleasure, his nails digging into Minseok’s back just a little harder – which merely urged Minseok on, his hips slapping against Chanyeol’s harder with each thrust as the younger cried out, a mixture of Minseok’s name and _faster, fuck, please_ on his tongue.

The only relief his own aching cock found was when it pressed up against Minseok’s stomach, the motion pulling whines from Chanyeol’s lips. He pressed his heels into Minseok’s ass harder, wanting nothing more than for the other man to fuck him breathless.

Minseok smirked against his skin, Chanyeol could _feel_ it, before he pinned the both of Chanyeol’s wrists above his head. He kept a grip on the wrists with one hand, pressing down with his weight as he began to slam his hips into Chanyeol – the younger rocked his hips up to meet the thrusts, crying out _loud_ when Minseok dragged his hips lower to press against _that_ spot.

He continued to rock into Chanyeol like that, drawing out a whine as Chanyeol arched his back and rutted up against Minseok – the sounds Chanyeol was making all but drew a _growl_ from Minseok, the low sound deep and prominent as Minseok fucked into him properly.

Chanyeol could feel himself edging, the pressure in his balls tightening as he pushed back against the grip on his wrists – mainly because it was the only thing he could do, his breathing pattern a mess of pants as Minseok’s body slid against his, filling him good enough that he almost didn’t want it to end.

“Minseok,” He breathed out, “I’m close- _oh_ , please, Minseok-.”

Minseok shut him up by kissing him, a little harder than before but more thorough, his body pressing against Chanyeol’s enough to give his dick the friction he needed. His legs tightened around Minseok so hard he worried, for a moment, he might have bruised the other man – but the thought of Minseok with bruised hips from fucking him this hard had him moaning loud, the coil releasing as he came between the both of them.

His thighs were trembling as Minseok continued to rut into him, murmuring praises against Chanyeol’s sweaty skin that had his heart swelling in fondness and something not quite fathomable.

“You feel so good,” Chanyeol coaxed, his hips jerking in sensitivity, “Fuck, Minseok, please. Come- _god_ , come in _me_.”

Minseok groaned, the sound muffled when he bit down on Chanyeol’s clavicle – causing Chanyeol to cry out, clenching around Minseok’s cock as the other pumped into him, filling him with come as he rode through his orgasm.

His boyfriend eventually stilled above him, breathing hard as he let go of Chanyeol’s wrists. As he had done the time before, he kissed the skin on Chanyeol’s wrists as though it would ease any discomfort. He planted a kiss on Chanyeol’s cheek, pulling back to smile down on him.

“Thank you, Chanyeol,” Minseok murmured.

Chanyeol looked up with wide eyes, his heart beating both from the exertion and from the way Minseok was staring at him. With a hand tangled in Minseok’s hair, Chanyeol pulled him down to kiss him properly, breathing his own _thank you_ between them as though the rest of the world didn’t deserve to hear.

 

☽ ☾

 

He called his mother in the morning, making sure to ask the nurse if she was awake – he didn’t want to interrupt what little rest she managed to find. As he’d expected, his mother had been more than willing to stand as a witness, stating she was prepared to do anything to help. Though he was more than grateful for the sentiment, he remained unhappy that they’d brought her into this.

And what would that mean for his parent’s marriage? It added more complications onto her already-complicated health and Chanyeol felt nothing but guilt. Standing against one’s husband in court could hardly lead to a healthy marriage, as if the woman needed marital issues on top of everything else.

Minseok had apologised, and Chanyeol realised his mother would have probably involved herself with or without his consent. She’d already asked Kyungsoo to help, and Chanyeol had almost forgotten that the woman was a lawyer herself. She was experienced, a veteran in the court room who was already well aware of the complications of the witness stand – she could probably handle herself better than anyone else.

It wasn’t until he was on his way home, a little guilty for having neglected his best friends, that he received a text from Junmyeon. He didn’t even remember exchanging numbers with Sehun’s boyfriend.

_[‘myeon (three dollar sign emojis)]_

> _The preliminary hearing date has been set: next Tuesday9am._

_> It should be fine, provided Wu doesn’t try to slam us with useless subsidiaries._

_> Also depends on the judge, hopefully we don’t land someone P.I biased._

Chanyeol sighed, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly. This would all be over, soon. He hoped. He trusted Minseok, Minseok needed his trust, and he had to believe that everything would be fine. Though he remained unprepared to face his own father in a court of law (represented by his ex-boyfriend at that), he _had_ Minseok. He was being represented by his own boyfriend.

It was everything that could lead to disorder. At least it would be interesting.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this note is gonna be so long, bare with me
> 
> firstly, i'd like to apologise for how long it's taken me to update - if you follow me on twitter, you'll know why... to everyone else, life got a 'little' messy. which leads to my second point; most of this chapter was written on an _ipad_ , not my forte, definitely not what im used to... i really hope it hasn't degraded the quality of my writing.
> 
> lastly, thank you for **1000** kudos!! you're all wonderful people and i hope u all have a lovely day!
> 
> LAST BUT NOT LEAST: [please check out this incredible fanart that laura did!!](https://twitter.com/xiuleader/status/893892391891079168). the initials on the choker... anyways. enjoy!

“I don’t even have anything to wear,” Chanyeol all but whined from within Minseok’s wardrobe.

He could hear Minseok laugh at him and he sighed, his mind running through further excuses to get himself out of going on the shopping trip. Minseok was trying to distract him from the impending stress of the preliminary trial, and he appreciated it, he _did_ , he just didn’t see _why_ they had to go on an excessively long shopping spree. He’d rather spend the weekend inside. With Minseok.

“I could just go naked,” He tried, eyes narrowing at his own clothes hanging within the wardrobe.

“I’m not entirely opposed to the suggestion.”

Chanyeol sighed, wandering out of the walk-in wardrobe to glare at his boyfriend, “If I leave this wardrobe and you’re smirking I’m gonna-.”

“You’re going to what, Kitten?” Minseok interrupted, the smirk pulling at his lips, “It’s bad practice to leave your sentences unfinished.”

Scowling, Chanyeol turned to continue his fruitless escapades of whiney clothe searching when Minseok’s hand gripped his wrist, tugging him back into the bedroom. Chanyeol wanted to roll his eyes, to tease his boyfriend’s antiques, but one look at Minseok’s eyes halted him. He was pressed flat against the wall, Minseok’s mouth hovering just over his own –  a kiss never came, though Minseok’s hand dipped beneath the elastic of Chanyeol’s waistline.

Chanyeol gasped, partially in surprise but mostly due to the hand wrapping around his cock.

Minseok remained silent, his hand stroking Chanyeol in his underwear as he tried to keep himself in check – a thumb stroked across his slit and Chanyeol’s back arched from the wall, his lip caught in his teeth to mute his moans. His eyes met Minseok’s and a whimper left his throat; the lawyer was silent, perhaps, but his entire attention was focussed on Chanyeol.

His eyes followed the shape of Chanyeol’s lips, watched the scrunch of Chanyeol’s eyes on a particularly hard stroke – watched the younger come apart, a moaning mess, beneath his hand. Chanyeol partly felt like he was on display, a piece purely for Minseok, to construct, take apart, and the thought had a shiver running along the length of his spine.

With Minseok’s eyes watching him so intently and his hand down his pants, it wasn’t long before his hips were rocking against the other man’s grip, his precum slicking Minseok’s hand. It was almost embarrassing, it _should_ have been embarrassing – except, Minseok appeared nothing but proud at the fact he impacted the younger so.

His hands were clutching the material of Minseok’s shirt, his forehead pressing against the lawyer’s neck as his hips trembled, stuttered, Minseok’s grip tightening and pace quickening as he came against the inside of his pants.

Minseok continued to stroke him, even as his legs threatened to crumble in oversensitivity. Only then did his boyfriend kiss him, kissed the remaining oxygen from his lungs as the white light of his mind began to clear.

“Clean yourself up,” Minseok said, placing one last kiss at the corner of his mouth, “We have shopping to do.”

Chanyeol allowed himself to fall back against the wall, his breathing laboured, “What was that for?”

“You looked pretty.”

“I hate you,” Chanyeol muttered, unashamed of the blush painting his cheeks.

Although he’d agreed to accompany Minseok shopping didn’t mean he _wanted_ to, that he didn’t know Minseok was using this as an excuse to distract and spoil him. Chanyeol kept that in mind as he dressed, slowly, deliberately meticulous. He could buy Minseok a gift, even the tables a little, perhaps show Minseok he wasn’t here for materialism… Though he enjoyed it.

Emerging into the living room, he found Minseok attired in the most casual clothes he’d ever witnessed the other man adorn. He couldn’t keep his feet from pausing, eyes following the sleeves of Minseok’s sweater down to the skinny jeans tracing his thighs.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not exactly a stranger to the public,” Minseok answered as he adjusted his hood, “I don’t plan on being featured in next week’s issue of _Kim Xiumin spotted eating ice cream in public_.”

“We couldn’t have the country knowing one of its richest men prefers mint ice cream,” Chanyeol agreed, watching Minseok slide on sunglasses, “What an awful discovery.”

“It’s superior.”

“It tastes like toothpaste.”

Minseok rolled his eyes, “Careful, or only one of us will be enjoying ice cream this afternoon.”

“I already brushed my teeth, thank you.”

“Brat.”

Chanyeol didn’t even try to avert his eyes from appreciating Minseok’s thighs when the older man turned around.

It wasn’t that Chanyeol hated shopping, or buying things, or sidestepping people in overcrowded streets – it wasn’t that he didn’t care for it, either, because he most definitely enjoyed returning home a few bags heavier. He’d never really expected to be led around a store, his fingers grasped loosely by Minseok’s as they pondered over materialism.

He still planned on buying the lawyer something; a feat proving difficult considering the man had enough money to buy anything he ever wanted or needed. Chanyeol was learning that it was less about money and more about practicality, something that Minseok would appreciate for itself and not its price tag.

Minseok wasn’t even trying to hide the fact he was out to spoil Chanyeol, buying anything that Chanyeol even remotely hinted towards liking. Their bags were slowly growing and Chanyeol didn’t feel too bad – Minseok seemed to be happy with the fact Chanyeol was allowing himself to be spoiled.

“We could buy you a suit for Tuesday,” Minseok said, pausing outside a shop window.

The preliminary hearing – Chanyeol had been trying to forget.

“I have clothes I could wear,” He replied, because, really, he had _clothes_.

“Perhaps,” The lawyer responded, though he pushed open the door to the store anyway, “We can buy you a suit, anyway.”

“I thought you had Kibum for this kind of thing,” Chanyeol pondered, eyes running over the selection of materials he hadn’t the slightest inkling about, “Would he be offended?”

Minseok snorted, “Who do you think owns this brand?”

“Oh,” Chanyeol let out as a distantly familiar face greeted them.

“Taemin,” Minseok addressed, smiling small, “I’m aware Kibum is busy – I was wondering if you could help.”

“Busy,” The boy – Taemin – snorted, “His second lunch with Secretary Kim this week, I have a feeling this goes beyond the needs of business.”

Secretary Kim Jonghyun, Chanyeol realised; Kibum had the highest standards of anyone he’d ever met. He tried not to stare wide-eyed at the other. A member of government and a passive-aggressive stylist. Incredible.

“I’ve heard,” Minseok said, before unhooking a dark suit blazer and handing it to the other, “You’ll be able to get the measurements from Kibum, I assume?”

Taemin nodded, taking the material, “Pretty sure he complained about leg length the entire time, but, I’ll get them.”

After exchanging thanks and farewells, Minseok led Chanyeol out of the tailors and onto a street growing busier with the lunch hour. Despite Chanyeol’s previous thoughts that domesticity brought all things dangerous and uncertain, it felt good – being able to brush knuckles with Minseok in public, for the other man to genuinely enjoy spending time with him… for Chanyeol to feel utterly at home regardless of surroundings, when the lawyer was present. It was nice.

It made permanency appealing, and Chanyeol knew he’d grown far too attached far too quickly, but how could he not when Minseok looked at him like he was the only fucking star in the sky?

“Ice cream?” Minseok asked, adjusting his hood.

“If it’s not mint,” Chanyeol agreed, grinning when Minseok’s lips quirked.

As they began their route towards whatever ice cream place Minseok was craving, Chanyeol’s eyes ran over the de-coloured sign of a rather ambiguous store front. He used their entwined fingers to tug the lawyer into the store, taking in its vintage insides as Minseok followed. Chanyeol wasn’t particularly certain what the store was supposed to sell, but he wandered down an aisle regardless.

It sold a little bit of everything, Chanyeol gathered as his eyes glanced from comics to clothes. A perfect place for someone with no idea what to gift.

What was he even supposed to buy for someone like Minseok? Socks? Tea cups? Chanyeol was left rather clueless, allowing his feet to wander him aimlessly through the store. Eventually, his eyes grew distracted by a collection of cameras on display – cameras of all eras, of all designs and uses. Minseok already owned an old, dusty version of one of the polaroid cameras on display, though Minseok’s camera failed to develop pictures vibrantly. Everyone could find a use for a camera… probably. At least this one would work properly.

He glanced over his shoulder to see his boyfriend peering through books that looked bigger than any one man should read, before picking up the small camera box and heading to the desk to pay.

Minseok glanced at his bag curiously when they exited the shop.

“What did you buy?” He asked.

“Don’t buy mint ice cream and I’ll consider telling you, Mr Kim.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Minseok mumbled, though he agreed to freeing them both from the mint ice cream.

Predictably, Chanyeol was the worst person to leave the power of flavour picking.

Minseok had sent him to buy the ice cream, _any_ ice cream, claiming a table and dumping their bags as he waited. In a slight panic, Chanyeol ordered six scoops of ice cream flavours he’d never even heard of, staring at the poor girl holding the ice scream scoop with wide eyes.

And one mint scoop. He wasn’t entirely cruel.

“Do you plan on eating all of that?” Minseok asked amusedly when he returned.

“Sehun probably eats more than this to himself, in one sitting.”

The lawyers nose scrunched up in reply, and Chanyeol laughed. He handed over the bag containing the camera, figuring it would hardly be a surprise. It was just a little something he’d wanted to do – it wasn’t like Minseok had to appreciate it, or would even care for something so mundane. And yet, Chanyeol had wanted to buy it for him anyway.

“It’s for me?” Minseok questioned, waiting for Chanyeol’s affirmative before peering inside, “A camera?”

“Your other one was left neglected,” Chanyeol explained, instead focussing on the ice cream, “Dusty in some clutter cupboard, and I figured, why not have a new camera… for new memories? I guess it’s kind of the same, but this one is just better because your other one was ancient and honestly-.”

“Chanyeol,” Minseok interrupted his rambling.

Chanyeol glanced up, “What?”

“I love it,” Minseok informed, and Chanyeol really didn’t want to think about the things the look in Minseok’s eyes did to his stomach, before the lawyer leaned across the small table and kissed him.

“I’m glad,” Chanyeol said, a little relieved, voice a little small.

“I always did enjoy photography.”

He frowned, “Why did you never use the other one?”

“Busy,” Minseok answered, taking a small spoon of the weird green ice cream, “Never had the right person to photograph.”

Chanyeol mentally refused to blush for the second time that day, “You can take pictures of other mundane things. Like trees. Or the sky.”

“I know,” Minseok’s smile was small, “But, you’re better.”

Instead of rolling his eyes at his boyfriend, Chanyeol, alternatively, attempted to ignore how hard he was falling for the man sat across from him. Perhaps it was a little frightening, to have so much invested in someone – even if said person enjoyed mushrooms with their breakfast and mint ice cream elsewhere, Chanyeol couldn’t help the way his insides came apart in adoration.

Chanyeol spent the car journey home looking through the things Minseok had purchased, finding mostly clothes he’d probably leave at Minseok’s apartment eventually. One thing did catch his eye – earrings, simple and silver, taking the shape of musical notes. He hadn’t even seen the lawyer buy them and wondered when the latter had even noticed his ears were pierced. The diamonds following the curves of silver probably cost more than Chanyeol could think to make in a year.

Glancing over at Minseok, Chanyeol, albeit cliché, felt his heart clench.

He never wore earrings, but his ears were pierced all the same – it was a nice gesture and Chanyeol didn’t hesitate to insert the metal through his ears.

His apartment was devoid of both his friends by the time he and Minseok returned, the latter carrying the majority of bags despite Chanyeol’s protests. Because, of course Minseok was a real gentleman, of course Minseok would spend a ridiculous amount of money on him and walk him to his door, bags in hand.

Minseok appeared oddly fitting in Chanyeol’s bedroom, his casual clothes hardly abrupt against the modernity of his surroundings. Chanyeol didn’t care to be discreet as he leaned against the door of his bedroom, eyes scanning across his boyfriend in unbridled appreciation. The lawyer placed the bags down to one side, momentarily distracted as he peered around the bedroom.

“Do you have any other plans today?” Minseok asked, raising an eyebrow when he realised he was being watched.

Chanyeol shook his head, “Why?”

“Good,” The lawyer replied, leaning up on his toes to plant a kiss atop Chanyeol’s mouth.

Unable to stop himself, Chanyeol smiled into the kiss, allowing his hands to find purchase on Minseok’s neck as he led the younger across the room and to the bed. Chanyeol found himself sprawled out completely, Minseok straddling his lap as he licked into the younger’s mouth. His hands travelled down Minseok’s back, tracing the curves of the lawyer’s muscles through his shirt – he hesitated momentarily, before cupping Minseok’s ass and squeezing.

Chuckling, Minseok’s mouth travelled along his jaw; the combination of his boyfriend’s mouth and the way they rocked together had Chanyeol’s breath stuttering in his throat.

“Piercings are a good look on you,” Minseok murmured, his teeth tugging lightly at the silver in his ears.

Heat flushed through Chanyeol, and _oh_ , he’d never realised how sensitive his ears were before. Minseok licked a stripe up the shell of his ear and he shuddered, hands gripping Minseok’s ass even harder – pulling them flush together, causing the two of them to groan in unison.

Slowly, their clothes began to pile together on Chanyeol’s bedroom floor.

Minseok was now straddling his bare thighs, his hardening cock pressing against Chanyeol’s hip as he kissed Chanyeol breathless. The younger pulled away, his face flushed and lips swollen as his own dick strained against Minseok’s ass as they continued to rock together, intimate but very much satisfactory.

“Kitten,” Minseok began, a shiver running down Chanyeol’s spine, “Perhaps, you could fuck me.”

Chanyeol paused, eyes glancing up from Minseok’s kissed red lips, “Are… you sure?”

His boyfriend rutted particularly hard against him in answer, and Chanyeol groaned out at the friction between his dick and Minseok’s ass. He nodded, reaching across to his bedside drawer to retrieve the lube – a feat proven difficult with Minseok straddling his lap. He handed the bottle to Minseok, a little unsure how he’d prefer things to occur.

He’d never thought much about their positions during sex – he knew he preferred to bottom, and Minseok preferred to top; but there was something exhilarating to be found in the fact that Minseok wanted Chanyeol to fuck _him._

Minseok merely poured the lube onto Chanyeol’s fingers, guiding his hand down between them and to his ass. Chanyeol didn’t have time to hesitate as Minseok kissed him, his finger sliding into the tight heat slowly. His own cock was leaking between them as he pumped his finger into Minseok, the only sign of Minseok’s reaction was the hitched breathing, the slight swaying of his hips as Chanyeol worked him open.

When Chanyeol added a second finger, Minseok’s forehead pressed against the crook of his neck, his breathing growing uneven as the seconds passed – Chanyeol knew the discomfort of being stretched when your body wasn’t used to it, he wanted to make Minseok feel good, wanted to be good to Minseok. Good _for_ Minseok.

At three fingers, Chanyeol had shifted them both so Minseok could lay down – he’d been straining his thighs, before, all but riding Chanyeol’s fingers in an image Chanyeol would never be able to un-see. Chanyeol kept the pace slow, scissoring Minseok and pressing deeper until he heard the moan escape the lawyer’s lips.

Chanyeol might have been the one to finger his boyfriend open, to fuck him, yet not an ounce of him felt like he was in control of the situation. Minseok was half-lidded, murmured praises bringing the blush to Chanyeol’s ears and Chanyeol wanted to be _good_.

At four fingers, a sheen of sweat was causing strands of Minseok’s hair to stick to his forehead and Chanyeol considered the thought that it was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. The lawyer laid breathless, his eyes scrunching in slight pain and pleasure as he held Chanyeol’s free hand.

Eventually, Minseok placed a hand on Chanyeol’s chest and pushed him to lay against his headboard – he then moved to straddle Chanyeol once more, his hand reaching down to slick lube across Chanyeol’s dick.

With hands placed atop Chanyeol’s shoulders, Minseok began to lower himself onto Chanyeol’s cock. Chanyeol held Minseok’s hips, aiding the lawyer to move slowly – they both gasped when Chanyeol’s tip pressed against Minseok’s ass, and they both moaned as Chanyeol’s head finally pushed in.

Chanyeol was louder, even from where it was muffled as he placed kisses along Minseok’s clavicle. His thumbs rubbed circles into Minseok’s hips as the lawyer seated himself, and he began to doubt how long he’d be able to last like this.

He took a shuddering breath when Minseok had fully seated himself, his muscles tense to prevent himself from rutting up into his boyfriend; his mind felt afloat, pleasure curling like stars in his stomach as Minseok breathed a little heavier, fingers carding slowly through Chanyeol’s hair like he was the one who needed comforting.

“So full,” Minseok murmured, pressing a kiss to Chanyeol’s forehead, “You feel so good, Princess.”

Chanyeol groaned as Minseok experimentally moved his hips, Minseok’s walls clenching around him tightly – it started slow, a swivel of Minseok’s hips, Chanyeol’s grip on the lawyer’s waist tightening as he fought to hold himself together.

As Minseok began to rock against him, Chanyeol moaned louder, almost yelling out when Minseok began to ride him properly. He supported Minseok’s weight the best he could, something proving difficult with the pleasure searing through him and quaking his muscles. Minseok felt so good, so _tight_ , and Chanyeol could feel himself slipping, his grasp on reality shifting.

“Fuck me,” Minseok groaned, dropping himself down onto Chanyeol’s cock _harder_ , “C’mon, Kitten, make me come.”

He complied, his hips snapping upwards and pulling the loudest groan from Minseok yet – and when Chanyeol found the right angle, Minseok spasmed around him, his nails dragging lines across Chanyeol’s shoulders. Chanyeol’s hips faltered, the coiling pleasure almost too much as he fucked up into his boyfriend. His moans were growing incomprehensible and he felt an utter _mess_.

“ _Minseok_ ,” He let out in an almost-whine, “I’m gonna – I’m so close.”

Minseok clenched around him, hushing him when he let out a sob, “Not yet, Kitten, just a little longer. Touch me.”

And so Chanyeol did, wrapping his hand around Minseok’s leaking cock between them – he kept his grip tight, Minseok all but fucking into his fist as he rode Chanyeol harder.

“Please, _please_ ,” Chanyeol whined, desperate, his cock _aching_ , “I need to – Minseok, shit, I can’t-.”

“Come for me, Princess,” Minseok managed to gasp out, “You’ve done so well.”

Chanyeol allowed himself to finally chase release, rutting his hips harder into Minseok as he groaned loud – when Minseok tangled a hand in his hair, his hips swivelling as he pulled Chanyeol’s head back to kiss him harshly, Chanyeol cried out into the other’s mouth, pleasure snapping through him as he came into Minseok’s heat.

Minseok rode him through his orgasm and Chanyeol tightened his hand around Minseok’s cock, stroking him until the lawyer spilled between them, come coating both of their stomachs. His boyfriend continued to kiss him, even as Chanyeol’s moans grew quiet and high pitched and every bit whiney.

He was unsure how much of the sweat coating his skin was his or Minseok’s – and figured it hardly mattered when there was come cooling where it had splashed against his stomach. He gingerly pulled out of Minseok, who collapsed next to him atop the bed; they continued to breathe in the silence, allowing their lungs to recover from the exertion in sync.

“I need to change these sheets,” Chanyeol breathed into the silence, skin tingling in familiar ecstasy.

Minseok laughed, airy and quiet, “Now you know how it feels.”

“You have a cleaner,” Chanyeol retorted, nudging his boyfriend with his leg, “That doesn’t count.”

“We need to shower, first,” Minseok pushed himself up, looking down at Chanyeol with a fond smile.

Chanyeol groaned.

 

☽ ☾

 

Chanyeol awoke to find Minseok, sat to one side of the sofa and eating cereal, holding the gaze of Baekhyun – who sat at the other side of the sofa, his legs folded beneath his chin as he watched Minseok eat. He watched his boyfriend and friend for a moment, realising with a small smile that Minseok was wearing his clothes. It was a nice change. Not so frighteningly domestic.

He cleared his throat.

Minseok glanced up, a smile tugging at his lips, “Good morning, Kitten.”

Wearing his clothes, eating his food – Chanyeol felt wholly content.

Baekhyun raised his eyebrows, “Did you stay here last night?”

“No,” Chanyeol replied, deadpan, “He broke in this morning to eat our food and steal my clothes.”

He ignored his friends heart-eyes as he sat between them on the sofa, deflating into the cushions with his morning-hazed mind. Minseok shifted slightly, moving just enough for their thighs to press together – the lawyer then continued to eat as Chanyeol began to wake up, his eyes feeling puffy from the hours of sleeping.

It wasn’t long before Minseok finished, pushing himself up and wandering into the kitchen. He raised his eyebrows when he heard the lawyer begin to wash up.

“He’s sweet when he’s in a good mood,” Chanyeol said, more to himself.

His friend snorted, “And when he’s not?”

“Hot as hell.”

Baekhyun probably rolled his eyes, but Chanyeol was distracted by the reappearance of his boyfriend. Minseok picked up a bag Chanyeol hadn’t realised had been sitting on the arm chair, before crossing the room and placing a soft kiss atop Chanyeol’s forehead. Baekhyun might have cooed, but Chanyeol chose within that moment to ignore him.

“I have to go,” Minseok started, regretfully, “Would you prefer I pick you up Tuesday morning?”

He’d almost forgotten, “Oh. Uh.”

“Or, would you prefer staying with me Monday night?” Minseok continued, one hand gently pushing through Chanyeol’s hair, “I may be working late, though.”

Chanyeol nodded, and Minseok leaned down to kiss him goodbye. The lawyer then left, wearing Chanyeol’s clothes and his own suit in a damn _bag_. He watched the other disappear through the front door, his bottom lip worried between his teeth; he didn’t feel as bad as he’d assumed he might, with the seconds until the court date falling away like dead leaves.

It was likely Minseok he had to thank for that.

Seeing Minseok in his clothes was a sight Chanyeol could grow familiar with – it was a warm feeling, satisfactory without fear of it slipping through his fingers.

“What’s Tuesday?” Baekhyun asked, moving to lay his head in Chanyeol’s lap.

Chanyeol glanced down at his friend with a half-shrug, “Prelim hearing.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

“I could feel better, but I could feel much worse.”

Baekhyun looked up at him in consideration, “It seems serious. Between you both, I mean.”

“Maybe,” He responded, “How are things with Yixing?”

“Interesting,” Baek replied, grinning up at him, “He’s good. Like, as a person, you know? And he’s a dancer, so you know, those hip thr-.”

Chanyeol shoved Baekhyun from his lap without regret, standing up and grumbling _‘I need to shower’_ as he stepped over his friend’s sprawled out form atop the floor.

 

☽ ☾

 

Unsurprisingly, Chanyeol had remained an anti-fan of the courtroom.

The morning had approached so quickly he hardly remembered the past couple of days. A cocktail of anticipation and worry often had that effect – Minseok had been a key comforter, assuring him that not much could derail the hearing that morning. And if it did, Kim Xiumin was prepared, Chanyeol knew that, yet one simple side track of thoughts made him feel sick.

It wasn’t that law school had been particularly awful, though he’d never been a fan of the betraying competitiveness; how easy his classmates would throw each other to the dirt at the chance of extra credit. He’d never been fond of the power dynamics within the court itself, the need to appease a judge and a jury he’d probably never see again. He found nothing appealing to be found within vocal bargaining, persuasive speech leaving tongues trained in money.

Sitting there, behind a wooden desk below the Judge resurfaced an array of nostalgia he’d never enjoyed – and would probably never enjoy.

Despite his own unease, Minseok was far more relaxed within the courtroom of distrust. Before they’d even exited the car, Minseok had squeezed his hand and reminded Chanyeol that it would be okay. That Chanyeol could trust him.

Minseok was a calculative man, observant, and that’s why he did so well within such circumstances.

Playing the accused was not something Chanyeol could say he’d ever experienced before. It was rather mundane and everything he had expected it to be – his name, his plea, the declaration that any further trial would be dependant on the evidence provided. The thing about preliminary hearings was that it could be the end, _finished_ , the trial dismissed due to a lack of evidence.

As much as Chanyeol hoped this would be his last appearance in court, when had he ever been so lucky before?

Junmyeon was sat in the first row, behind them, Sehun at his side; Baekhyun had sent him a flurry of good luck texts, he had a class that morning with attendance already on the edge of dismissal. Lastly, his father sat at a separate desk to the right, Yifan sat aside him with an air of superiority. Or, rather, narcissism.

Chanyeol exhausted half of his attention on refusing to look in their direction – a waste, considering he had no option but to watch Yifan as the man opened the case. Of course, his opening spiel was nothing but praise for his boss, and Chanyeol’s petty side wanted nothing more than to tune out.

“I also find it relevant to mention,” Yifan eventually said, after his ‘ _Mr Park is one of the most reputable citizens of this country’_ bullshit, “The leeway Park Chanyeol has been granted – he was out of custody and without bond, something unacceptable considering the charges he may be facing.”

Minseok, of course, remained silent. There was an appropriate time to speak, regardless of Yifan’s accusations.

“And though there were no witnesses for this unjustified assault on Mr Park, I would like to bring forth a case to dismiss the authenticity of the defendant’s sole witness claim.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help the way he glanced up in shock, hardly expecting Yifan to target his mother already – of course, they were aware of the witnesses to be present, Chanyeol just hadn’t expected them to dismiss her before she’d even said a word. Yifan’s approach seemed to be more direct, abrupt… Less calculated.

“On what grounds?” The Judge, an older woman with rather sharp features, questioned.

“Medical, your honour,” Yifan answered, retrieving a collection of papers from the desk, “Mrs Park is currently beneath the influence of a variation of medication, many of which render the conscious thought unprincipled. I don’t believe Mrs Park’s recollection of events will be one-hundred percent reliable.”

He felt the beginnings of anger prickling beneath his skin – his father was completely willing to drag his mom into the dirt, to disregard her as mentally capable when Chanyeol _knew_ she was mentally comprehensible. She may have had moments in which she struggled to talk, but he’d yet to witness _unprincipled_ speech. It was complete bullshit.

“Objection,” Minseok called, the calmest interruption Chanyeol had ever witnessed in court, “Do you have medical evidence for this claim?”

“I do, actually,” Yifan walked towards the Judge’s bench, holding the papers out as an offer, “A medical report, conducted by the doctor under which Mrs Park is a patient.”

A doctor his father had paid, to look after her at the Park residence – a doctor under his father’s payroll, able to bias any argument for medical opinion to favour his father. It wasn’t fair, nor just, but it was exactly his father’s form of retaliation; and Chanyeol was angry, angry that his father would so easily do this to her, that he’d been corrupt for so long such a thing was no problem.

And Chanyeol wanted to wipe the smug smile from Yifan’s face.

He didn’t realise he’d been gripping the edge of the desk until Minseok spared him a warning glance; he relaxed his arms, urging himself to appear calm. Minseok had a fucking talent.

There was a brief silence in the courtroom as the Judge scanned the file Yifan had handed over, her brow creasing slightly before she sighed.

“Mr Kim, Mr Wu – approach the bench.”

The pair of lawyers approached the Judge’s bench and there was a lapse of quiet, though tense, words. Yifan appeared to bristle slightly, through which Chanyeol assumed something was being said in his favour – the taller lawyer was the first to leave, though Minseok lingered a moment to bow his head in thanks.

“I will need time to read and consider this report,” The Judge announced, before looking at Minseok, “Mr Kim, you have until we reconvene to consider your response or submit something of your own. Court adjourned.”

The room seemed to stand in unison, the Judge disappearing from sight almost as quick as Minseok did. He already had his phone in hand, prepared to make a phone call. Or three. Minseok was set in lawyer mode, his gait and tone professional, his smiles to please and his words to persuade. They had yet to present their own case, but Yifan had thrown them a rather dangerous curveball.

Chanyeol disliked admitting it, but a lot of their case had been built around his mother’s statement.

He let a long breath, turning on his seat to face Sehun and Junmyeon.

Sehun offered him a smile, “Wu somehow turned into a bigger dick, huh?”

Nodding, Chanyeol glanced to ‘Myeon, “What do you think he’s doing?”

“Minseok?” Junmyeon asked, and he nodded, “Most likely following up hearsay, probably someone involved with medicine – hopefully a doctor.”

“You should probably step out,” Sehun suggested, shrugging, “Take a breather. You don’t know how long this might drag on for.”

Chanyeol nodded, standing to do just that. He didn’t even spare his accusers a glance, figuring he owed them nothing as he left the courtroom. It somehow felt easier to breathe past those wooden doors, the air flowing to his lungs and clearing his mind. Things could have been progressing worse, the trial hadn’t even started properly and Yifan was attempting to dismiss their witness – they still had to file through the entire assault case and recollection of events.

He retrieved his phone, finding the correct name before tapping call. The dull call tone felt unending, until it stopped, though no one greeted him.

“Mom? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” She croaked, sounding anything but, “Aren’t you supposed to be busy?”

“Adjourned, for now,” Chanyeol informed, taking a seat on one of the benches outside the courtroom, “He’s trying to dismiss you as a viable witness”

“I know. I informed Minseok he would try to do that.”

Minseok had been prepared, and Chanyeol had no idea – he just hoped the lawyer was calling the right people.

Chanyeol’s sigh was quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“People change, I see that now,” His mom replied, her hoarse voice weak over the static of the call, “He’s no longer the man I fell in love with – but, he is the product of the man I fell out of love with. It’s not the end of the world.”

“How are you feeling?” He asked, prompting a more normalised path of conversation.

His mother couldn’t attend, even as a witness – her condition wouldn’t allow it, meaning her statement had to be given in the form of a declared written statement. Chanyeol assumed the Judge already had the statement, had perhaps already read the recollection in preparation for the prelim. It was up to Minseok to validate said statement.

He didn’t see Minseok again until the court began to reconvene, the lawyer offering nothing but a small smile to ease Chanyeol’s worry.

“Have you done what you needed to do, Mr Kim?” The Judge asked after the courtroom fell silent.

Minseok offered her his sly professional smile, “Yes, your honour. Two further witnesses, I do believe they have just arrived.”

“Two?” The Judge asked, perplexed.

“Doctor Choi, Mrs Park’s doctor before she was wrongfully discharged,” Minseok answered, and Yifan practically bristled, “And, nurse Kim Yerim – for a later defence.”

“Very well, let us hear from this Doctor Choi.”

Chanyeol vaguely remembered the face of the doctor who now took to the witness stand, his aura care-free as he stated his name and pledged to speak the whole truth and nothing but the truth. His words were clear and precise, and eventually Minseok stood to question him.

“Doctor Choi,” He began, leaning back against the front of Chanyeol’s desk, “Thank you for coming on such short notice. When did you last see Mrs Park? And, in your medical opinion, how was she?”

“I last saw Mrs Park a week ago. Her condition had been deteriorating, as predicted – I had been adamant that she remain within our care, though Mr Park refused to even consider my opinion.”

Minseok shot a quick look in Mr Park’s direction, unreadable, before continuing, “And her mental state, had it also been deteriorating?”

Dr Choi shook his head, “Not to my knowledge, her illness had yet to cause any significant damage to her mentality – other than stress and worry, of course.”

“And the medication? Is it known to be detrimental for the mind?”

“No,” The doctor then frowned towards the accuser’s table, “I would like to know how the medical report came to be – there are no proven occurrences that this medication has ever obscured a patient’s mind.”

“I see,” Minseok hummed in fake thought, “There are no theories to support why Mrs Park’s recollection may be unreliable? _Unprincipled_?”

“Mr Kim, there is not even one medical journal to suggest the possibility – such a claim is something that demands research, as a doctor I have a responsibility to warn my patients of all possible side effects, especially concerning something that may damage my patient’s _mind_.”

“Thank you for your time, Dr Choi. No further questions.”

The Judge, who had been listening closely until this point, then sighed, “It’s unfortunate that my decision must be rushed – it is one doctor’s opinion against another’s, and I have chosen to allow the court to hear Mrs Park’s statement. I will decide for myself the value of these words.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help his deflated sigh of relief.

Mrs Park’s letter left the courtroom in a silent shock – Chanyeol could feel it, his father’s anger, Yifan’s patience, Minseok’s mild satisfaction. Of course, there was nothing in the letter Chanyeol hadn’t known, hadn’t been told before; his mother had not been quiet about her regrets, about the things she should’ve done. Hearing it a second time did not aid Chanyeol in digesting the words, though, and he was left feeling a little hollow. Bare, for the entire courtroom to see.

There were few people within the courtroom that knew him for _him_ , yet they knew about sections of his life that had impacted and changed him permanently – it wasn’t a nice feeling, being on display like this, allowing countless strangers into the privacy of his own life when he’d remained quiet about it for so long.

His mother had mentioned their estrangement, his father’s aggression, the strain, their reconciliation – her illness, how she new she’d been wrong, but had been too blind to stand against his father, and how she was attempting to rebuild those bridges. She also discussed her belief that Chanyeol had not done the deed claimed by the accused, that his father had told her they’d had a _scuffle_. A scuffle was not a common assault misdemeanour.

She called her husband a liar, a man blind to anything other than his own wants. A failure of a father.

Chanyeol had averted his gaze as Minseok read the letter aloud, stared at his hands in his lap and tried to ignore the furious glare his father attired – tried to ignore the heavy-set numbness in his stomach when his mother’s letter mentioned she’d spend what little time she had left loving her son the way a mother should.

“To finalise my defence,” Minseok announced as the courtroom settled. “I would like to call forward Kim Yerim to the witness stand.”

The face that took to the witness stand was vaguely familiar within Chanyeol’s mind, though from where he was unsure – Minseok had said she was a nurse, so it was possible he knew her face in passing. It felt like a little more than that, somewhat more personal.

It was with a memorable twinge to his nose that he remembered – the night in the hospital his father had punched him, there had been a night shift nurse present who ensured his nose was not broken. Chanyeol was certain it was the same nurse, after which he’d found himself at Baekhyun’s. But, how could Minseok possibly know that? How could he possibly know which medical staff had been present?

“Ms Yerim, it is to my knowledge that you work at the same hospital as Dr Choi. Correct?”

She cleared her throat, “Correct.”

“It is also to my knowledge that you’ve seen both Mr Park and his son once before. Correct?”

“Correct.”

Minseok then nodded, “And, under what circumstances did you see them?”

“I, um… I was working my usual late shift when I was distracted by a minor disturbance,” The nurse looked from Chanyeol to Mr Park, “I saw that man punch the defendant, I then made sure the poor boy hadn’t broken anything.”

“Did the defendant hit Mr Park first? Was Mr Park’s reaction mere self defence?”

The nurse shook her head, “The man – Mr Park? – seemed rather aggressive. I don’t think he liked what the defendant had said.”

“Thank you, Ms Yerim,” Minseok shifted his attention to the Judge, “Just a day prior to the accused assault, the witness claims to have seen Mr Park, unprovoked, assault his own son in the very same hospital. If anything, the defendant was the one to rise in self-defence, not Mr Park – the idea that this man, a _valued member of society_ , has made such claims is undeniably unacceptable. I do believe Mr Park’s reputation will be in tatters after this trial, your honour.”

The Judge offered no comment to Minseok’s words, though she didn’t appear awfully off put by them, either – Chanyeol was unsure how the trial was progressing, there was no jury to read the faces of, only a Judge whose decision it would be to progress the trial further. Minseok’s defence was strong, convincing and he hadn’t even finished his case yet.

Chanyeol was yet to take the witness stand.

His palms had grown clammy in apprehension, wiping them against his suit pants a mere temporary aid as he approached the stand at the front of the court. Where he’d felt on display before, through personal information and false accusations, only worsened here – he tried to ignore the faces in front of him, tried to focus on staying calm. He needed to stay calm.

“Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, under pains and penalties of perjury?”

Chanyeol nodded once, “I swear.”

“Chanyeol,” Yifan began like they were _friends_ , “Your relationship with your father, was it a good one?”

“No,” He replied, tone tight.

Yifan clasped his hands together, “Could that be, perhaps, why you attacked him that night?”

“I didn’t attack him.”

“Was he abusive?” Yifan continued, an attempt to shine a brighter light on Mr Park.

Except, Chanyeol had been prepared, “Not physically.”

Pausing, Yifan’s eyes narrowed slightly, “So the assault was revenge for the years of mental strain?”

Chanyeol took a deep breath, regaining his foothold in calmness, “It was self-defence, after he slammed a fist into my face.”

“Lying on the witness stand is illegal, Chanyeol.”

“I’m not lying,” He said, just as monotone.

“And your relationship with Mr Kim, could that have also played a factor?”

Unconsciously, Chanyeol’s eyes widened – he’d known Yifan to be a dick, but he’d never expected _this_. Chanyeol didn’t care that their relationship had been outed, Chanyeol wasn’t ashamed of his sexuality nor would he ever be ashamed of dating Minseok. But, that wasn’t anywhere near the point – the point was that Minseok was one of the most appraised lawyers within the fucking city, his reputation was a clean slate the man had worked hard to build and being outed like this was only bad for business.

Chanyeol couldn’t be responsible for damaging Minseok’s reputation – with his reputation came his business, his work, his clients, _everything_ Minseok stood for. The country’s view of Minseok as a lawyer could not be impacted by his decision to represent Chanyeol pro-bono.

But, as Yifan had stated, lying on the witness stand was illegal. Punishable by perjury.

The courtroom seemed to have fallen into a shocked silence.

“Objection!” Minseok saved him from the decision, standing with his hands braced atop the desk, “Irrelevancy, your honour. I don’t believe Mr Wu should target personal standings amidst his failure to accept defeat.”

Yifan spun on his feet, “I don’t think _I’m_ the-.”

“That’s quite enough, Mr Kim, Mr Wu,” The Judge interrupted, tone scalding, “Do you have any more questions for the defendant?”

“No, your honour,” Yifan answered, stalking back to his desk.

“And you, Mr Kim?”

“Mrs Park covered anything I could ask, your honour,” Minseok replied, sitting down calmly.

“Very well. This is a mess of a situation and frankly, Mr Park, it’s hard to believe the things you have been accused of in return of your accusation,” The Judge said to his father and Chanyeol found it a little difficult to breathe, “However, I _do_ believe them and quite rightly I’m disgusted.”

Chanyeol glanced towards Minseok, his heart beating too fast to fathom within his chest – Minseok’s face was blank, as expected, though his eyes were quite literally shining. A good thing, perhaps.

The Judge had chosen to believe his mother’s words, a relief so thorough Chanyeol could feel it calm his veins.

“I am dismissing this case, and your claim against your son,” The Judge stated and Chanyeol’s eyes widened, his ears barely registering the words that followed, “And, frankly, I believe your son could pursue his own case against you – that is a decision for the defendant alone.”

She looked to him in expectancy, but Chanyeol was still frozen in his seat.

“May I talk with my client?” Minseok asked, his voice bringing Chanyeol’s mind back into the room.

“You have two minutes.”

“Chanyeol,” Minseok spoke quietly, leaning in to be heard, “This is your chance to retaliate, to bring forth a case that could destroy your father.”

It may have been ridiculous, except, Chanyeol had no desire to pursue prosecution against his father. Those were things of the past, things he’d learned to move on and forget – he wouldn’t forgive his father, but today alone had mentally exhausted him. He never wanted to see the man again.

To any other, it could feel like losing, like giving up and accepting what had happened – but, it felt like finality, like leaving behind all the toxic parts of himself. If that was what giving up felt like, then he didn’t care, the quicker that man left his life the better. He preferred it this way.

Chanyeol shook his head, hoping Minseok would understand, “I would rather not.”

Minseok appeared hesitant, “Are you sure? He deserves everything bad coming his way.”

“Can’t we just… finish this mess today?”

Realisation flooded Minseok’s eyes and he smiled, secretive and small, just between them, “Okay.”

The lawyer straightened himself out, purposefully ignoring the desk at which his father and Yifan appeared a very unhappy duo. He took his time, fastening the buttons at the front of his suit and looking every bit as suave as he did so.

“Well, Mr Kim?” The Judge prompted.

“My client has chosen not to pursue anything further, today.”

The Judge was momentarily surprised, “I see. If that’s all, then this case is dismissed – I’d like to thank the witnesses and any other jurors involved. Court adjourned.”

That was it. It was done.

They’d won.

The case had been dismissed and for once Chanyeol had _won_. This trial could have been stretched on for weeks, he could have been facing _assault charges_ … it was rare such cases were dismissed in a pre-lim stage and yet… it hardly felt possible. It wasn’t like things like this happened to _him_.

Only after the majority of the room had stood to leave did Minseok smile genuinely, accepting a handshake from Junmyeon and probably some form of teasing from Sehun. The gratefulness that surged through his chest was almost unfathomable, and he reached forward to brush his fingers against Minseok’s, lightly.

He bid Sehun and Junmyeon farewell, accepting a far too tight hug from his best friend before he climbed into Minseok’s car – he was tired, mentally, and entirely thankful towards Minseok. He still wanted to disappear for a moment, to refresh his mind and _accept_ what had just happened. It had gone well. They’d won and Minseok was fucking wonderful.

“You know,” Chanyeol murmured after Minseok seated himself in the car, “The media will find out about what Yifan said – that courtroom was _full_.”

“You mean, find out about us?” Minseok questioned, “Does it bother you?”

“No,” Chanyeol frowned, meeting his eyes, “That’s not what I meant. It should bother _you_ – you’re the one in the spotlight, the one the media will target.”

“Let them gossip, Chanyeol. It’s all they are good for.”

“They’re gonna take one look at me and…” He deflated, averting his gaze beyond the window.

“And?” His boyfriend prompted.

“People like you don’t fall in love with people like me.”

Minseok sighed, “If that came from anyone else’s mouth, I’d be a little mad.”

Chanyeol glanced down when Minseok reached for his hand, “Why?”

“You’re telling me who I’m supposed to love. That’s not anyone’s decision,” Minseok’s thumb traced along the back of his hand, “Not yours, and definitely not pathetic businessmen’s who’ll come crawling back to me with their tails between their legs because they _need_ me. You’re every bit as worthy for me as I am for you.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol responded, deflated and feeling a tad ridiculous, “I’m sorry – I just don’t want this affecting your work.”

“It won’t,” Minseok assured, offering a small smile, “My clients are loyal and my skills dictate my business, not my personal preferences.”

“Thank you,” He blurted out, “For everything you’ve ever done. For representing me, when you could be busy working for someone who _paid_ you.”

“I don’t care about money,” Minseok responded, “I care about you.”

Chanyeol almost huffed, “I’m still thankful. I mean it.”

Minseok placed a gentle kiss to his cheek, and Chanyeol wanted to melt into the leather of the car seat. Instead, he let himself lean against the lawyer, thankful that the windows for the back of the car were tinted dark – perhaps he didn’t need to disappear to refresh his mind, perhaps all he needed was Minseok.

“I know.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final chapter... finally
> 
> shorter than usual, later than usual... thank you all so much for reading and commenting; it honestly gave me the motivation to continue writing, for which i am forever grateful *heart emoji*
> 
> you're all wonderful and i don't deserve any of u

Chanyeol had predicted the media outrage the moment the words had left Yifan’s mouth – _and your relationship with Mr Kim, could that have also played a factor?_ One bitter, petty question and he _knew_ repercussions would follow. Of course, that had been Yifan’s sole intention, his slipping grip holding on to the case with vicious claws; all but ripping through irrelevancy.

In all honesty, he hadn’t really expected the Twitter hashtags wherein younger, more liberated minds came to the lawyer’s defence as the media attempted negative backlash. Backlash including arrogant fingers searching through everything personal involving Chanyeol – and publishing it. He wasn’t concerned for himself as much as he had been for Minseok; he didn’t have a multi-million company to save from share plummets.

Someone had discovered he’d been the initial intended hair to Park International; had discovered, through nought but hearsay, that he’d left due to conflict with his father.

“You could spend days reading thoughtless rumours and nothing you could say would aid them in disappearing any faster,” Minseok began, leaning against the door to his own office, “Ignore it, why care?”

Chanyeol looked up from his phone, “Don’t you care? I saw the shareholder percentage drop – I’m pretty sure the whole country did.”

Guilt, perhaps, played part to Chanyeol’s reluctance. If Minseok hadn’t represented him, this wouldn’t have happened – there wouldn’t be an ongoing power battle for the top firm if Chanyeol hadn’t dragged Minseok into this mess. _His_ mess. If he wasn’t attached to Minseok this way. He was unsure how Minseok could be seemingly unaffected when this could’ve been avoided.

Minseok sighed, pushing himself up to close the distance between them, “Jongdae and I own a majority within the firm – I couldn’t care less about balding old men with heads buried deep within each other’s asses.”

He snorted as Minseok leaned down to kiss his forehead, because, yes, somehow, he’d expected something similar from the lawyer’s response. His own doubts were nothing beyond overthinking, an inexperience that stemmed from the way Minseok as much as smiled at him – like his heart was expecting his mind to wake up any moment and face reality.

Except, this was reality – and Chanyeol’s heart was admittedly in deeper than it had ever been before.

“I have a meeting,” Minseok said, a little regretfully.

Chanyeol blinked, remembering the sole reason he’d even turned up to Minseok’s office – although, it may have been remotely believable that he’d just turn up to watch his boyfriend work. What other inspiration would he need?

He held up the plastic bag at his side, “Remember to eat.”

The look in Minseok’s eyes, then, the crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes – adoration, perhaps, something not quite fathomable within words, as Minseok leaned down to place a goodbye kiss to Chanyeol’s lips.

“I will,” He replied, taking the bag and giving Chanyeol a smile he’d never quite learn to breathe through.

Once again left alone within Minseok’s office, Chanyeol pushed himself to his feet to find a better use for his day other than lingering around the lawyer’s firm. As much as he liked the people here, he’d experienced enough law jargon and professionalism to last him quite a while – it was as he was leaving that his eyes noticed the white plastic, something rather out of place atop Minseok’s large wooden desk.

It was a polaroid picture – the very picture Chanyeol had taken on Minseok’s old camera, the two of them sat in front of Minseok’s living room windows. Minseok was sat behind Chanyeol, his arms out of view though Chanyeol remembered them being wrapped around his own waist. The lawyer’s eyes were closed, his lips pressed softly against the skin of Chanyeol’s neck; something rather soft to contradict Chanyeol’s own goofy peace sign.

He was unsure for how long he stared at the picture, the quality poor but cherished by Minseok all the same – on Minseok’s work desk, of all places. Somewhere the lawyer would look every day. Chanyeol found himself sitting on Minseok’s chair, his heart beating a little harder in his chest as he, for possibly the first time, allowed himself to _feel_ how much Minseok meant to him.

How much he loved Minseok. He loved Minseok – was _in_ love with Minseok.

Something so arbitrary yet it had taken him this long to even realise it.

Instead of allowing himself the fear of prevailing attachment, though the panic crossed his mind, he allowed himself to breathe – and wait. Because he wasn’t entirely an idiot, he’d seen the way Minseok looked at him often, the smiles, the touches like they’d somehow prevent Chanyeol from disappearing. It was something, even if he had no words to determine whatever _it_ was.

Minseok had never been verbal about the way he felt, nor had it ever been easy to read the man’s face – instead, perhaps, it was found within the little things. Within the way he awoke Chanyeol with a kiss to his forehead on dark mornings before even the sun had chance to touch his skin; within that crinkle of his eyes as he watched Chanyeol attempt to save a burning breakfast.

Adoration in the lawyer’s eyes and all Chanyeol had wanted to do was make some damn food.

Chanyeol stared at the polaroid a little longer, his mind searching for the sense to describe the light feeling flowing through his veins – the search was fruitless, the polaroid returning to Minseok’s desk as Chanyeol stood up, words in his heart that his mind was beginning to find.

He’d tell Minseok, eventually. Probably.

 

☽ ☾

 

Baekhyun had finally decided to pick up his ass and move in with them – the move itself had been rather painless, albeit the uncanny number of belongings their best friend had somehow managed to cramp into his tiny apartment. They’d also been reminded of Baekhyun’s awful eating habits, the art student surviving solely on instant ramen and coffee alone.

“I’m making you dinner,” Chanyeol announced the moment they’d all collapsed onto the sofa, “And you’re going to eat it, Byun.”

“I’m an art student, not _dying_ ,” Baekhyun retaliated, kicking his feet up onto the table.

“Coffee doesn’t replace sleep,” Sehun mumbled, his eyes closing in mild exhaustion.

“And anyway,” Baek continued, “Yixing is taking me out for dinner.”

“And then what?” Sehun asked, smirking despite his closed eyes.

Chanyeol rolled his eyes, just as their doorbell rang – Baekhyun was on his feet in an instant, sauntering over to the door like he already owned the place. Yixing appeared as Chanyeol remembered him, though his clothing far more casual; which meant Baekhyun had probably told the dance exec to come straight from a class. Poor soul.

Sehun remained half asleep as Chanyeol made them all tea (see also: hot chocolate for Yixing), the light feeling in his chest that morning keeping his mood afloat.

“So anyway,” Baekhyun began in the tone he used when trying to be discreet, “How’s your whole music producing thing coming along?”

“Um,” Chanyeol replied, sitting down, “Good? Kinda wish I was studying it at college, though.”

He was enjoying where his life had taken him, right now – from everything personal to practical, he was beyond thankful he had the chance to produce music without having to worry about paying rent. It was all he’d ever wanted to do, all he’d ever _enjoyed_ doing… he just wished he could be doing it in an environment that allowed his potential to escalate. Like college.

Yixing raised a nondescript eyebrow, sharing a look with Baekhyun.

“Does Minseok know?” His friend questioned.

Chanyeol frowned, “I’m not letting him pay for my tuition.”

As much as Chanyeol might have wanted to take this to a higher level, there was no way he’d even allow Minseok to consider paying his tuition – there were things he wanted to do for himself, no matter how distant the possibility. He refused to be a burden, and he refused to be a charity case.

The two shared another look.

“What?” Chanyeol sighed.

“I…” Baekhyun trailed off, before grinning wide, “I may have showed Xing the track you wanted me to demo vocals for. And then I, also, maybe, showed him all your other music demos? Shared online account perks.”

“So… what?” He replied, confused.

“Well,” Yixing finally spoke up, offering the taller a small smile, “On behalf of my institute of Music and Dance, I would like to formally extend to you an offer to study at that very same college.”

Chanyeol’s eyes widened, because _of course_ he knew where Yixing worked, Baekhyun had failed to shut up about it – one of the highest-ranking arts colleges in the country and they wanted to extend _him_ an offer? It was a nice thought, up until the hefty price tag. He was thankful for the sentiment, though.

“Thank you, but,” He hesitated, smiling small, “It’s not something I’d ever be able to afford.”

Yixing’s smile was soft, “We’re offering you a scholarship, Chanyeol.”

His eyes flickered over to Baekhyun’s in disbelief, “I’ve hardly earned a scholarship.”

The dance exec stared at him seriously, “This isn’t for Baekhyun, if that’s what you’re thinking. I listened to your work, myself – me and my colleagues. You have real talent, and we merely wish to contribute to your future; contribute to harnessing that potential.”

“Oh.” Because, really, what else was he supposed to say?

“You can think about it,” Yixing gave him a dimpled smile, patting Chanyeol’s head as he and Baekhyun prepared to leave, “The new semester doesn’t start until January.”

January was literal months away, an entire winter away – and Chanyeol had that amount of time to _think_ about it like the decision was _his._ He had to be certain that Baekhyun played some sort of role in his offer, but Yixing claimed he’d heard Chanyeol’s work first hand. Yixing was a dance teacher, so of course he’d shared it with his _colleagues_.

He merely watched as Baekhyun and his (boy)friend left, the disbelief prominent in his wide eyes as Sehun shrugged his shoulders and sipped on the cooling tea.

 

☽ ☾

 

Now, Chanyeol wouldn’t entirely trust his instincts when they told him something was wrong. Not particularly _wrong_ , but different – because he was pretty damn certain that Minseok was acting different. There were moments of hesitation between them, in which Chanyeol could conclude nothing but confusion; Minseok didn’t hesitate, he didn’t change the subject whenever Chanyeol began to prod… except, he was. And Chanyeol was concerned.

Eventually, Chanyeol gave up on his game of tiptoeing around the older man and sat himself directly atop his boyfriend’s lap. Minseok merely tried to continue reading the words upon his laptop screen.

“Did something happen?” He asked, sliding his arms around Minseok’s neck to make the lawyer look at him.

“I…” Minseok trailed off in a way that lined Chanyeol’s mind with nerves, before sighing, “We’re considering a large corporate case. Remember when I said I’d initially been the head of the Chinese branch?”

Chanyeol remembered, it was the night they’d first opened up to one another.

He nodded.

“We kept the majority of our clients – one client in particular, one of my most _loyal_ clients, is being sued for… millions. I’ll be spending the rest of the year in China,” Minseok continued, fingers toying with the hem of Chanyeol’s shirt in distraction, “I only trust myself and Jongdae to handle this, and Jongdae has been extremely busy for quite some time.”

“You’ve been busy, too,” Chanyeol defended, trying not to think about the fact that _the rest of the year_ meant at least five months.

“Perhaps,” The lawyer agreed, smiling reluctantly, “If all goes well, I’ll be returning in February.”

 _If all goes well_ , Chanyeol thought to himself, Minseok could be gone for… even longer.

“Oh,” He felt a little selfish for the way it was the only word to leave his mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Chanyeol asked, not really needing an answer, “I understand. You’ve already neglected so much work because of me.”

He was accepting this on the outside far faster than he was on the inside.

“And I’d do it all over again if I had to, but he’s my oldest client. I have my own professional loyalties, regardless of how much I’d rather spend that time here with you. I could say I’ll fly back when time permits it, but with a case like this, I’m unsure if time _will_ permit it.”

“I can’t even imagine not seeing you for that long,” The words slipped from Chanyeol’s mouth, even as the warning signs flared to declare he was being _clingy_ , _annoying, childish,_ “I could come with you.”

“No,” Minseok’s answer was quick, “You have college, your mother, Chanyeol, those are not things I’ll allow you to leave just because I’m away for a few months.”

“A few months?” Chanyeol mumbled, knowing Minseok’s argument was right, “Semester starts in January _and_ I can fly out to see my mom regularly, it’s not like it’s _that_ long a flight.”

Chanyeol knew his mind was fighting for loopholes – it wasn’t like Minseok was disappearing for ever, or even _leaving_ him… but, he couldn’t help the way he felt, the dumb need in his chest that told him five (at _least_ ) months apart was going to be pain he didn’t want to experience. The facts were there, though; semester started after the new year, and China wasn’t exactly a thousand miles away. It was, at most, a two-hour flight.

And Chanyeol had always preferred change, had always preferred travelling to new places with no plan set in mind. It was freeing.

Perhaps it was dangerous, with his mom’s health as bad as it was; it was particularly selfish to even allow himself to follow this path of thought. He wanted to be here for her, and it seemed to be the only thought keeping him routed to the country.

After the court case with his father had settled, his mom had successfully filed for divorce and had been moved to a private hospital. She wasn’t restricted to the hospital, nor her bed, but it wouldn’t have been smart to stray far from medical assistance

Minseok deflated slightly, “I don’t even know when I’ll be able to return.”

“You’re going to be busy, I’ll have the time to see my mom – and maybe I need the change.”

Recent events had exhausted him, mentally, his energy draining into the surroundings. A new scene could give him what he needed to recharge… or, he was making excuses again.

“That’s ridiculous,” The lawyer sighed, and Chanyeol may have agreed, but he was not about to just _let go_.

“Maybe,” Chanyeol tried a smile, “Let me come with you.”

“Talk to your mom.”

 

☽ ☾

 

The next time he saw his mother, he’d offered to take her out to lunch – it was a pleasant opposite to what lunch with her and his father had been, the air much more relaxed without the need to be on the edge of his seat. She had seemed to be doing better, her eyes glowing with mischief as she prodded him with questions about Minseok. He couldn’t tell if she was realistically doing better, or if the distance from his father had brought out the best in her.

He considered that it was a placebo within his own mind – he wanted her to be getting better, so any little indication that she was merely looking better filled him with hope. Her coughing fits brought out the familiar ache within his chest, the useless feeling that he contributed nothing to her wellbeing, had been nothing but stress as a son. That he hadn’t conformed to the son she’d probably envisioned as a young mother.

Perhaps, he thought for a moment, watching as the condensation trickled down the bottom of her glass, it would be better for him to remain here.

“What are you worrying yourself with, now?” She asked, picking up her glass after the coughing halted.

Her hands still trembled, Chanyeol noted.

He smiled, sad but genuine, “Minseok has to work away, for a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“February, at the earliest,” Chanyeol answered, toying with a napkin, “A client in China – I understand that it can’t helped. Still sucks, though.”

He considered himself a professional in down playing the ache he seemed to feel within his chest.

She watched him for a moment, before replying, “Some of the saddest memories I have include leaving you, and as a lawyer, those trips away were never short.”

Chanyeol didn’t really want to think about his childhood, about the way he saw more of his teachers than he did his own parents. It was possible that these were the things he _should_ think about, in order to move on from them; he’d already accepted it, but hadn’t, perhaps, completely healed from it.

“It’s okay, it’s not like… we can change those things.”

“I’m still allowed to regret them,” She gave him the look he’d seen too much of recently, remorse and something akin to sadness, “It wasn’t easy for me. It won’t be easy for him, either.”

“He’s not my mom, though,” Chanyeol’s attempt at light-hearted humour was overlooked.

“I remember, on those nights I came to see you before I left, you’d beg me to take you with me,” She then laughed, the sound light and airy, “You said being stuck in my office all day would be better than being stuck in a classroom.”

“I was a smart kid.”

“You want to go with him. Why is that causing you so much trouble?”

“Because,” He replied, like the singular word was enough of an answer, “ _Of course_ I wanted to go on your business trips, you’re my mom. He’s not my mom. He’s a grown man – _I’m_ a grown man.”

“Chanyeol,” She started in that annoyingly persuasive yet soft mom voice, “Let me be here for you, now. Let me be your mom, and let me tell you that I can see what you’re not telling me. Let _him_ be there for you.”

“He might not even want me to go with him,” Chanyeol blurted, because the thought had been burying itself deep within his worry, “It’s a long time to be stuck with someone. We have our own lives, and his does not revolve or even have to remotely consider the way my-.”

“Chanyeol,” His mom repeated, shutting him up, “Don’t let your thoughts run away from you. You know he cares about you.”

He mumbled out a barely audible _I know_.

“I thought you spent most of your time at his place, so why is that an issue?”

Narrowing his eyes slightly, he responded, “Did Baekhyun tell you that?”

“Sehun,” She corrected.

Traitors, talking to his mom behind his back like he wouldn’t find out.

“I’m not going to leave you here,” Chanyeol finally said, after chewing on a piece of his food for way too long.

“You mean to say that you’re going to stay here, moping around for days on end, when you could catch a flight or even call me from a country that’s, quite literally, next door?”

“It sounds simple when you say it like that – but, it’s not simple, mom. I couldn’t live with myself if… if something happened to you here when I’m _not here_.”

“Visit, call regularly – I refuse to be the one thing anchoring you here.”

“No, I’m not just-.”

“Chanyeol, you’re my son, and I’m _telling_ you to follow whatever that conflicted heart of yours is telling you to do. Learn to follow your heart now – don’t wait until you’re as old as me to do the same.”

He left the conversation at that, choosing instead to talk about his college offer and everything else that didn’t include him travelling to China with Minseok. He chose not to talk about it, nor think about it, nor debate his head and heart.

The lunch had been nice, to finally be able to treat his mom and spend the day with her. It somehow felt needed, like talking to her was the easiest thing in the world.

Their day eventually drew to an end, and Chanyeol once again found himself being able to talk for moments on end to his mom – it came with a side of regret, regret that he’d been neglected the opportunity to do this all his life; to just talk to his mom like a normal son and have her chastise him like a normal mom.

It wasn’t entirely clear to him that he’d fallen asleep at her bedside, again, his legs pulled up underneath him in the armchair as she, too, spoke to him about everything and anything. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, hadn’t even realised how tired he’d been until he found his eyes unwilling to open as voices filtered through his ears.

Minseok’s voice, and his mom’s – he’d completely forgot that Minseok was supposed to be picking him up and felt a remote pang of guilt that he’d probably worried the lawyer by not replying to his texts.

The voices were oddly comforting, and he found himself dozing back into a half-asleep state, his mind still soft with the feeling of slumber. It was as he fell asleep again, his ears bound to betray the words he was hearing, that he heard his mom ask Minseok if he loved her son.

It was in those last few moments before sleep, before his body once again fell beneath the lull of warmth, that he heard Minseok’s confirmation.

A confirmation that he loved Chanyeol – and a promise that he’d look after her son, regardless of what the future brought.

 

☽ ☾

 

For a particularly long day, this was not how Chanyeol had predicted it would end.

It had begun innocent enough – Minseok had drove them both to his apartment, the words Chanyeol had heard before drifting asleep dancing on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to _ask_ Minseok about it, but something about ‘hey, do you love me?’ was not how Chanyeol wanted this to ignite.

Instead, he kissed Minseok; kissed the breath from Minseok’s lungs the way the lawyer had done to him so many times before. Chanyeol had kissed him until the other man had pushed him down onto the bed, lips swollen red and a hint of curiosity in his eyes – curiosity that morphed into something darker when Chanyeol opened his mouth, sliding the lawyer’s index finger into the heat slowly.

Minseok was watching him carefully, his thigh pressed between Chanyeol’s legs as he pushed his finger in far enough to watch the younger gag. A smirk tugged at his lips, then, and as he moved to withdraw his finger, Chanyeol bit down.

“Do you remember your safe word, Kitten?”

Chanyeol felt the arousal low in his stomach begin to dance as he nodded.

With the hand not fingering his mouth, Minseok slowly began to undo the front of the younger’s trousers, grinding his hand into Chanyeol’s hardening dick as he did so. Chanyeol moaned low around the fingers, the sound muffled as Minseok freed him of his underwear.

He stroked Chanyeol slowly, his grip tightening as he began to pump the length. Chanyeol inhaled sharply, almost choking on the fingers within his mouth when Minseok slid his thumb across the head of his cock. The motion was rough, the lack of lube almost painful – that didn’t stop him from complaining when the hand disappeared from his dick with the fingers from his mouth.

Except, Minseok then pressed the hand to Chanyeol’s face and Chanyeol looked up at him in question.

“Lick.”

And Chanyeol did, leaving a trail of saliva on his boyfriend’s palm and tasting himself in the process.

The slide was easier with the aid of Chanyeol’s spit, though barely, as the fingers returned to his mouth. Minseok kept him like this, with the younger’s hips bucking up into each stroke as the fingers pressed down harder – in time with a particularly rough stroke, Minseok pushed his fingers into the back of Chanyeol’s throat and Chanyeol gagged, his eyes watering as the heat in his abdomen curled.

He wanted to ask for more, for something quicker than the slow pace Minseok was dragging this out at – the words were useless, a mere gurgle around Minseok’s fingers as the elder smirked, quickening his pace until Chanyeol was certain he was seeing stars.

Minseok didn’t even try to stop Chanyeol from fucking up into his fist, instead used the precum to ease the strokes of his hand. He quickened his pace until Chanyeol was squirming, on the edge of coming apart, before halting his actions completely.

Chanyeol whined, his hips bucking up into nothing as Minseok slid the pants down his thighs.

The click of a bottle lid was the only hint Chanyeol received before a finger was pushing into him, his aching cock left neglected between them as Minseok begun working him open – with the lawyer’s fingers out of his mouth, Chanyeol’s tongue failed to halt the begging, to halt the _please_ and _more_ that fell past his lips as Minseok pinned his hips to the bed.

The seconds fell together into a desperate blur as Minseok took his time, drawing out every moan and whine that Chanyeol didn’t even try to hide until the lawyer was turning him over, pulling his hips into the air and pushing his head against the mattress.

He felt Minseok’s lips on the back of his neck, then, the trail of teeth and tongue following the length of his shoulder as Minseok lined himself up at Chanyeol’s entrance – he bit down as he pushed in, and Chanyeol couldn’t even care that he was drooling against the bedding when he moaned, Minseok’s low groan joining him as his hips pressed up against Chanyeol’s ass.

Minseok waited, seemingly in no rush as he continued to lay his lips where he pleased along Chanyeol’s upper back.

“Move,” Chanyeol gasped out, trying to grind his cock into the air beneath, “ _Please_.”

Where he’d been slow in the preparation, in pushing Chanyeol to the edge only to pull him painstakingly back, he made up for when he pulled out and slammed back into Chanyeol – the younger was certain he yelled, but the thought was hardly relevant as Minseok began fucking into him properly, his hands holding Chanyeol’s hips up in a bruising grip.

Chanyeol’s hands grasped for the bedsheets, a last-ditch attempt to avoid jerking himself off; he wanted to feel Minseok’s hand around him, pushing him over that edge as he pushed into him harder – the thoughts were voiced aloud and Minseok groaned, fucking Chanyeol harder until the sound of his hips slapping against Chanyeol’s ass joined the chorus of moans.

He was close to coming untouched when Minseok slowed, pumping into him slowly and Chanyeol wanted to _cry_ in need for the release that had been denied twice.

That was when Minseok pulled out completely and Chanyeol whimpered, hardly graceful when Minseok turned him over and wrapped the younger’s long legs around his hips. He leaned over Chanyeol carefully, leaning down to briefly kiss his lips as he began to fuck him again – the kiss was far from perfect, sloppy and jittery with the pace of the lawyer’s thrusts, yet Chanyeol chased the other’s lips all the same.

A hand trailed down his ribs, sliding across the sweat on his stomach until, finally, wrapping around his cock. He clenched around Minseok instantly, the pleasure searing through him as his boyfriend fucked into him until he was a moaning mess, his hips trying to fuck into the fist and fuck back onto Minseok’s cock at the same time.

Minseok leaned away from him, then, the grip on his cock tightening as the pleasure in Chanyeol’s body began to peak.

“Are you going to come for me, Princess?” Minseok’s voice was breathless, his tone low as Chanyeol let out an _oh god please yes_ , “Then come.”

As Minseok slammed into him, Chanyeol’s back arched from the bed as his hands gripped the sheets so hard the muscles in his arms strained – he clenched around Minseok, _hard_ , as his come joined the mess of sweat between them. Minseok’s own groan was low, his pace quickening as he pumped Chanyeol until his thighs shook in oversensitivity.

Chanyeol lifted a hand to grip onto Minseok’s back, his nails raking down the skin as Minseok tensed on top of him, his hips stuttering to a stop as he came with Chanyeol’s name on his lips. He kissed Minseok, the action a breathy mess as they both panted hard.

Minseok allowed himself to collapse to the side of Chanyeol, pulling the younger against him and uncaring of the mess now cooling atop them both. They said nothing, merely allowed the darkness in the room to calm their breathing.

They continued to lay there through their high, Minseok’s fingers tracing shapes into Chanyeol’s hip as they allowed themselves to simply appreciate the other’s presence.

Cleaning was probably their smartest move, yet Chanyeol preferred to just lay there, tucked into Minseok’s side like he wasn’t the taller of the two. He allowed his eyes to focus through the darkness, to trail the length of silver light that the moon spilled through the open curtain. The only sound remained that of their breathing, yet the sound within Chanyeol’s chest felt so much louder.

He wanted to say it, the words that had been on his mind for the past few weeks – regardless of what happened, he knew he’d be okay with it. The thought of China may have scared him beyond admittance, but somehow that fear was beyond miniscule when Minseok was by his side.

Despite his lack of energy, he found himself moving to straddle Minseok’s lap; it couldn’t help but feel reminiscent of their first night spent together, how uncertain things had been yet how content he’d felt there on the lawyer’s sofa.

His lips touched Minseok’s jaw, slowly finding their way through the dark to Minseok’s lips.

Chanyeol kissed his lips once, before murmuring, “I love you, Kim Minseok.”

So, perhaps he was unfamiliar with those words when uttered allowed, and yet, his shoulders felt lighter than ever before.

Minseok’s hands tightened on his waist, lips against his own once again until his mind began to swim – and not entirely from the lack of oxygen.

“I’ve loved you for quite some time, Park Chanyeol.”

This time, it was Chanyeol who smiled into the kiss.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
> **  
> _THANK YOU FOR READING!_  
>   
> 
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> have a nice day!

**Author's Note:**

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